Star's Journey: The Dragon Queen
by Freida Right
Summary: -part I of V- Star of Rin leads a happy, normal life, and all is at it should be. But when her mother is abducted by the fearsome Zebak, she, three friends, and a mysterious stranger are propelled into the adventure they have always feared and dreamed of...
1. Chapter 1: Star

_*From January, 2014..._

I had sworn not to do this until other things were more complete. Alas, I refuse to help myself any longer. It is too much. XD

I've longed to write a continuation, pretty much since middle school, when I finished gobbling up _Ice Creepers_ , and decided that there definitely needed to be... MORE. At the tender age of 13, I didn't quite understand the ending. As a 23-year-old chef woman, it makes more sense, but... More. MORE. _MOOOOOOOOOOOORE._

And there have been other ideas over the years. Ideas that included portals to other dimensions and other languages and the spirits of whole elements living in certain people's children... But part of me fears that it has become too elaborate to ever happen. This, however, is recent. Like, within the past couple of months, recent. And behold—'tis manageable!

So, as this fandom is still pathetically smaller than Rowan himself, let's have ourselves a new adventure!

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 _Chapter 1: Star_

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"Star, come along! I won't call you again!"

"I'll be right there, mum," the girl called back for the third time, smirking to herself. Despite the annoyance in her mother's voice, she was fine with not being summoned again. She was taking her time, as she always did. She had never liked to be rushed.

As it was, Star was still busy trying to rake a comb through her long, thick brown hair. It tumbled in messy waves halfway down her back, and became more of a chore to deal with by the month. Her mother, grandmother, and godmother were always teasing that it needed to be cut soon, threatening with nothing less than sturdy shears. The kind used for shearing wool. Star always refused. She was curious to see how long she could let her mane grow, before even she couldn't stand it anymore.

That day had yet to come. She was very proud of its progress.

Satisfied that most of the tangles had been combed out, she set the comb aside and stood to face her mirror. Unable to do much else with it, she took a silk scarf and tied it around her head to keep her hair from her face. It was the most adornment the people of Rin would allow at a time, without whispering suspiciously as she passed by. After all, they were a proud and sturdy people, not given over to wasting time on vanities. Star would have liked much more to wind ribbons and flowers into her hair, the way her Traveler mother had in her own youth. It would have suited her much better, she thought.

Star was already an unusual child—the child of one of the village's greatest heroes, and a strange, exotic woman from the plains. Their union many years before had not been entirely welcome, merely accepted. Their friendship had been a powerful one in the past; many times, they had walked through living nightmares and come back out again, changed but alive, because of that bond. It came as little surprise to most, then, when they had married. They, themselves, had been unusual children, once upon a time. Before their adventures had changed them so. They were even more unusual now; but they had each other. They would always have each other.

Star's mother had left her wandering life behind to settle in the village, with her husband. For being raised as a Traveler, she had grown used to this settled life very quickly; perhaps astonishingly quickly, according to some. She was well liked, even well loved, by most. Whether she was a foreigner or not, she had still played a large role in keeping the village safe. And she was a good companion for its most honored resident.

Star was their only child. A strong, sturdy, energetic child, like nearly any other in the village of Rin. This was also surprising, considering her parentage. As a boy, her father had been small, weak, and very shy, afraid of his own shadow, some said—the oddity that occasionally came along, normally to be in everyone's way. By contrast, her mother had always been tall and strong, graceful and beautiful; despite her fierceness, her strength of arm was unimpressive, as it was with most Travelers. Their greatest weapons were, and always had been their sharp wits and good sense.

Who would have guessed, then, that their one daughter would be so unlike them? Yet Star was more like her parents than most people guessed. She was strong enough to wield a sword, she supposed, but she didn't care for them. As it was with her parents, she preferred to favor the power of her mind over any other weapon. She was a quick, clever girl; it was evident in her very face. And she was sure of herself; that was evident in the way she carried herself, with her back straight and her head held high, proud of who she was.

She faced her reflection with a grin, planting her fists on her hips. Some people teased her because of her appearance, but she knew it was only because they were jealous. At first glance, she looked very much like her mother. She had the same dark, bronze skin and pale blue eyes, glittering with life and intelligence, and perhaps a secret or two. But a closer look at her face betrayed this. She looked, in fact, almost exactly like her father. She had his same nose, jawline, and hair color. Certainly, she had his smile, people said. A calm, disarming smile that used to be rarely seen.

Forgetting briefly that her mother was still waiting, Star closed her eyes, made a silly face, and looked again at her reflection. Amused, she did this over and over, until she began to giggle at herself.

"Oh, I am silly," she laughed to her reflection. Pleased with herself, she finally left her mirror behind and started toward the kitchen.

There was already a bowl waiting for her at the table, steam still rising from it. On the other side of the small kitchen, her mother was washing dishes with her back turned. As Star slid into her chair, she heard her mother laugh softly.

"Wherever have you been?" she asked.

"Oh, nowhere," Star replied casually.

"Off on adventures of your own, I suppose."

'Only as far as my bedroom mirror will allow."

"Did you slay any dragons? Or perhaps a giant or two?"

"I would have, if there were any left to slay. You and papa seem to have taken care of them all, yourselves, and left nothing for me."

"Ah. A welcome relief." In a softer voice, her mother added, "Your godfather was right, back then, after all..."

Even though their child was as capable as any other, it was no great secret that the village heroes went out of their way to shelter her more than most. Perhaps they did not mean to, but they did. They had seen many terrible things, and fought against evils that no one had been able to imagine. Evil things that had lain quietly in their very land, waiting for a moment to strike against them. Their land was safe from such things now, and there was only their unexpected heroes to thank for it.

Heroes who had never wanted such adventure or excitement for themselves. Heroes who had been scarred and changed by them. Heroes who now had a single child to raise, a child they loved with all their hearts. Star had a great destiny awaiting her, that much was certainly true. But if her parents could spare her the trials, tears, and scars they had sustained, they would.

Other adults laughed at them, said such precautions were silly and pointless. Great things were expected of Star—so much more than had ever been expected of her father. What was the point in delaying this, or sheltering her when she should be strong and well prepared when her great moment finally found her? Her parents always answered somewhat coolly, if such danger threatened any other child, what parent wouldn't try to prevent it? Who would knowingly encourage their child to go out into the world seeking trouble? If your child was in trouble, would you not spare them, if you could?

Which everyone had to admit was not only true, but somewhat wise.

They had worked so hard, making this land a safe place for its children. Star knew immediately what her mother meant. All that hard work hadn't been intended specifically for her; but she was now a part of that. It was a humbling thought, which made her feel bigger at the same time.

Whatever was waiting for her, Star felt fairly prepared for it. She could fight well enough, survive alone in the wild if she had to, and she was very charming. What was more, she knew that she would not be alone. She would have friends and family surrounding her, when her time came. She had parents, who adored her; godparents who were full of wisdom and good advice; and cousins, who were a better band of friends than she could have designed on her own. They would never let her fail.

As she thought of these things, she slowly began to eat. No great adventure should start on an empty belly, after all. And in Rin, one always had to be prepared for an adventure. There had been none in a long time, but nothing was ever certain.

"Has papa already left for the day?" she asked.

"Just to the market and back. He'll be along shortly, if his sisters don't waylay him."

"Oh, but they will. They always do."

"True enough. I believe he has left something for you to work on, though. Go look in his study, when you're finished; he said everything should be in order."

"I shall ask him more about it when he returns," she decided.

"He will like that. You know, your father is extremely fond of you, Star. You are very much like him."

"I am very much like you, as well."

Her mother smiled at her over her shoulder. "Indeed, you are."

Star smiled back, and her mother returned to her work. As she ate, Star wondered, for at least the thousandth time, about her mother. As far as many people were aware, this woman was merely Zeel of the plains, formerly captain of the Traveler forerunners. Today, she was a familiar fixture of their small community, one which no one could quite picture life without anymore. Despite the stories, not everyone was completely aware that she hadn't been born on the plains at all. Somehow, a few people still failed to realize that she was, in fact, part of the race that had tried time and again to destroy them all.

Star smirked at the idea. When you looked at everything properly, of course her mother was Zebak. Her build and appearance certainly fit the description, as did her natural cunning and temper. All this was astonishingly easy to miss, when she introduced herself as a Traveler—the two very different people were more alike than most would guess. Mostly, though, people knew her as a hero, a warrior with a brave heart they could all accept, who had spared nothing to help them in times of real trouble, even though she had been a stranger.

Yet here she was, washing the morning dishes, as she had done every morning that Star could remember.

By the time Star had finished eating, her father still hadn't returned. Slightly peeved by his tardiness, she placed her empty bowl by the sink and went to gather her usual things from the study.

Her usual things were ready and waiting for her on her father's desk, laid out as he had learned she liked them. There were a few vials of ink and her favorite quill, carefully stored in a leather pouch. A thick book, its binding well-worn from use. Another newer book set beside it, most of its pages blank, waiting to be filled. And a short list of notes for her to work from.

Rewriting her father's first and perhaps greatest written work was a large task; he had only been a little older than she was, when he had first sat down to write down the details of his adventures. He had finished the process in a matter of weeks. Getting those details out of his head and onto something solid, tangible, which could be used for generations to come, had eased a tremendous weight from his very soul, he had explained before. Star supposed she understood. Her father had seen and done many amazing and terrifying things as a boy. She would have wanted it all out of her system, too.

Her father had always had a way with spoken words; at the age of 15, though, he hadn't been the best speller, and his penmanship had left much to be desired. He had also written the stories in a bit of a hurry, eager to just have everything written down. He had said before, pointing out passages that were almost impossible to read, that he had sometimes lost himself in a fever of memories and great release, simply scribbling as fast as his fingers had allowed. In those fits, he had accidentally left out a detail or two that nearly ruined the stories entirely. Star had found these things out quickly the first time she had tried to read the book for herself. There were parts of it that just didn't make any sense, and other parts she couldn't make out at all.

Several months ago, she had decided that The Book, as she called, it, sorely needed editing and rewriting. And it needed it from someone other than her father, whose spelling skills weren't much better after all these years. She had taken up the task herself, and attacked it with a vengeance. Books were her favorite things in the world. It wasn't right that a book as precious as this one be so poorly written.

Her father had gladly let her do it, somewhat relieved that it was in the hands of someone who cared so much, and would work hard to make it perfect. As it was, he didn't have the time to do it as he had wanted to. So, it seemed, there were still a few things that the fabled Rowan of Rin simply couldn't accomplish.

Star quickly gathered her things into her nearby shoulder bag and slung it over her back, holding onto her father's list to study on her way to the house of books. It was her favorite place to work; it was cool and quiet, and people rarely came looking for her there. Whenever she had buried herself under a mountain of books, she meant business, and people knew better than to disturb her. She also loved the feeling of being surrounded by so much knowledge. She found it intoxicating.

Resolving to spend an uneventful but productive day working on The Book, Star left her mother a hug and a kiss goodbye before walking out the front door, and down the lane that led into the heart of the village of Rin.

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 _Afterthoughts..._

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With the help of my little brother, who is also a large Rowan fan, this first chapter was dubbed a success. And so, it must continue! 8D

Many of you must be wondering by now, why Star should be named Star, when Rowan already has a Star. I've been asked this a lot over the initial planning process, so it's only fair to warn you all, this will be addressed shortly. Also, it is likely that you will cry.

This is the shortest chapter of the thing. I'll warn you now, some of these chapters get up to 9k, in terms of word count, which I typically measure by. I certainly try to keep it short and sweet, because it shouldn't take an hour to wade through a single chapter. But you'll see later on that there have been moments when I just couldn't help myself.

It's also fair to warn you that up until chapter 4, I had been typing awkwardly on a Samsung tablet with Polaris Office. This is not my favorite platform, as it has no spellcheck and formatting rarely translates well to Word, ffnet, or anything else. I have edited numerous times, but almost always find typos. If you notice more, please feel free to point them out. :D


	2. Chapter 2: Family of Heroes

This chapter is a mass of more exposition. It's been 18 years, and it's only right that we catch up with some of our favorite peeps. Find out who's still alive, what they're up to, and where Star fits into it all. The answers are, respectively: LOL, not Lann; nothing much; and, sometimes, awkwardly.

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 _Chapter 2: Family of Heroes_

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It was springtime in the valley, for sure. All its signs hummed around Star as she walked down the lane, which wound alongside the village orchards. Her grandfather was probably somewhere in those trees, tending to them as he had all his life. It was a stroll that Star appreciated, no matter what time of year it was. But spring was her favorite time to enjoy the trees. She could almost feel life and energy surging back through them, after a chilly winter. She felt energized, just looking at the trees and their new blossoms.

Up ahead, she heard familiar voices carrying on a rather loud conversation. She quickened her pace and soon rounded a turn in the lane. Not too far ahead, she saw her father standing in the middle of the lane, speaking loudly to the treetops.

"Don't you have work of your own to be doing?" he was saying. "I'm busy, myself. You're distracting me."

"Distracting you is my job," retorted a voice from somewhere in the tree's thick foliage. "What are little sisters for?"

"So this is where you've been," Star teased brightly, finally catching up with her father. "I was waiting for you, and you never came back. You always let Alanis get to you."

"I can hear you, Star."

"I know," she grinned, peering into the leaves at the young woman perched on one of the branches.

"Though this argument has been stimulating," her father interrupted, rolling his eyes, "I'll take this as my queue to exit."

"You're just giving up," Alanis countered with a sly smile.

"I suppose I know when I'm beat."

Alanis rolled her own eyes. "Whatever."

Before leaving, he stopped to give his daughter a hug. "I'm sorry I missed you at breakfast, Star. Was there something you wanted to ask me?"

"Just to make sure there's nothing you left off the list," she answered, showing him the paper in her hand. He took it and glanced over it, finally, thoughtfully nodding his head.

"I think that's it, for now. I hope this clarifies some things."

"It does," she agreed, taking the list back. "I had wondered what some of those words were."

"Your enthusiasm is overwhelming," he said dryly. "We can expect to see you for lunch this time, right? It bothers us when you forget."

"I'll try."

"That will have to suffice, then. I shall see you both later today, then. And make sure you stop by the bakery before you come home. It peeves your godparents when you forget them so easily."

"I'll try to remember," she agreed, hugging him tightly before he left. Waving goodbye, he hurried away before his youngest sister could engage him again. She was always certain to try; but that was her own way of showing her affection.

Star turned her attention back to Alanis and shook her head. "You deprive me of my father, sometimes," she scolded with a smirk.

"He was my brother, first, before there was ever an idea of a you," Alanis teased back, jumping down from the tree, her long raven hair trailing after her like a streamer. Even though it was a long way to the ground, she landed effortlessly, with the ease of many year's practice. "Another set of notes? You're off to the house of books again, aren't you?" she guessed.

"I like it there," Star answered with a shrug.

"People are going to start thinking you're odd. They're all so proud of how normal you've turned out, and now you're out to ruin it."

Star scoffed. "I've never been normal."

"It's easier to be normal. People don't bother you as much."

"I suppose, but it's also more boring to be normal. I like myself the way I am, thanks."

Alanis rolled her vividly green eyes, and sighed to herself. "You'll get yourself in mountains of trouble, thinking like that," she cautioned, digging in her pocket. She pulled out a small bundle and handed it to Star, who opened it to reveal a small bread roll, still warm.

"I don't like what Rowan said about you skipping meals. You need your strength, dumb. I'll be going home for lunch on time, like a _norma_ l person, so I imagine you will need this more."

"This must be very fresh," Star commented, stuffing the wrapped roll into her bag. "I suppose Forley has been here recently."

"Perhaps," Alanis answered vaguely, letting her eyes wander into the trees.

"He's supposed to be at the bakery, helping his father, like a _normal_ person."

"He's a restless person. He can't help himself, sometimes."

"He'll cause enough problems of his own, like that," Star pointed out, turning to go on her own way.

"What can I say? I never mind a brief distraction from those I love," Alanis answered with a smile. "I can't bring myself to scold him anymore. I gave up trying a long time ago, but maybe he would listen to you."

As she waved a goodbye of her own, Star highly doubted that. Forley never listened to anyone but himself. And he certainly didn't listen to her.

Even though Alanis was her father's sister, it was nearly impossible to think of her as an aunt. She was only three years older than Star, and they had played together since babyhood. Alanis was one of her best and closest friends, and so it had always made more sense to think of her as a cousin. Not quite her sister, but more than just a friend. They were directly related, after all. There were very few secrets between them, and they intended to find their own adventures side by side, as the family that they were.

Her other cousins were a different matter. They were her godparent's children, and not related to her at all; but they were so close, it was easy to forget this. Allun the baker had always been one her father's most trusted friends; and so his son, Forley, and his daughter, Leah, had always been to Star. At least, Forley was. The two shared an adventurous streak and a love of being outdoors, surrounded by nature. He also liked to think of himself as her own personal bodyguard, which had been nice when she had been a little girl, but was now mostly a bother. Still, he was an almost constant companion, and she couldn't imagine getting by without him.

Leah had always been another story. She was a striking contrast to her older brother. She certainly wasn't faint hearted or a weakling; in fact, she was an excellent archer, in spite of her poor eyesight. She had worn spectacles for most of her life to compensate this. However, she had overwhelming problems with crowded spaces; the thought of the market, the square, or anywhere else there might be a crowd made her terribly anxious, and so she rarely left her home unless she had to.

Many people in Rin had similar problems with other, equally normal things, but it was often agreed that Leah's problem was exceptionally strange. Star's father called these "brain fears": unexplainable, irrational mental fears of mundane things that sometimes couldn't be overcome. He said it was unsurprising that Leah should have one, since her own mother had a brain fear of confined spaces.

It was difficult to know Leah well, since she made herself so scarce. One of the few who did was Star. Behind that strange fear, for which Leah had often been teased cruelly, she knew there was a powerful mind, and a heart that was perhaps even more powerful. Of the two siblings, Leah was the only one with any sense. She was careful and patient, not entirely out of necessity. Inside, Leah had the heart of a true guardian, and her sense of justice was strong. If Forley could be bothered to listen to anyone, it was his little sister, who was a bastion of wisdom and advice beyond her years.

Star was positive that she would bump into Forley eventually, if she just kept walking toward the village. No doubt, he had stopped to bother Alanis, because he knew that his youngest cousin would be coming that way soon. The thought irked her, and she quickened her pace, hoping to slip past and miss him. When she had been born, everyone had told him to take good care of her, because she had no older brothers or sisters to do so. All three of her older cousins had been alarmed by this, at the tender ages of five and three years old. Alanis and Leah couldn't imagine not having an older brother; being a big brother, himself, Forley had decided that it simply wouldn't do, and had taken up the task of filling that void.

It was sort of funny. Once upon a time, he had honored that task by using his adorable, toddling cousin as a distraction, while he got away with all sorts of mischief. These days, he was the one trying to keep her out of trouble. He followed her nearly everywhere, hardly letting her out of his sight. Star knew that Forley meant well; but mostly, she wished he would stop worming his way into her business.

Star could picture how he would find her, because it was the same routine every day. He would all but appear at her side out of the blue, greet her casually, as if their meeting was just a happy coincidence, and proceed to follow her everywhere for the rest of the day. She would beg him to go back to the bakery, where his father was probably missing his help, because she was 13 years old and perfectly capable of looking after herself. He would lie and insist he was doing no such thing, and all he wanted was to know what she had been up to in the hours they had been apart.

Forley reminded her of a puppy, that way; or perhaps, more vaguely of an overly attached lover. He seemed to miss her entirely too much when they were apart, and he was always too eager to know what she was up to—where she was going, what she was to do when she got there, and who else would be there. Rarely so that he could join her, just so that he knew. It had been sweet, at first, but it was starting to make her a little angry.

Star wondered what it really was that drove him to be that way. Perhaps he really was only trying to be helpful, and was too self-absorbed to understand that he was going about it the wrong way. Perhaps he was hopeful that she would stumble into a grand quest someday soon, and was determined not to miss it. Or, perhaps, he was inwardly concerned about her for just that reason. Alanis was quite right about him: he was a very restless young man, and Rin was quickly becoming too small for him. As much as he longed for a good adventure, he couldn't stand the thought of his friends getting hurt in the middle of it.

 _It must be conflicting for him,_ Star thought as she walked, feeling a grain of compassion for her cousin.

Therefore, it was surprising when she reached the carpentry and still hadn't seen him. Like her parent's house, the carpentry was on the outskirts of the village. The people of Rin had to walk a long way to purchase their furniture; but Bronden the furniture maker needed her privacy, because of brain fears of her own. Star never minded walking past the place, though, because for her, the carpentry was one of her usual places. With any luck, her uncle would be in the yard, working on a project, and his sister would be sitting in the sun, keeping him company as she painted. They would wave and say hello, and perhaps conjure up a word puzzle for her to think on.

Shaaran and Norriss had come from the land across the sea many years earlier—it was a long and complicated story, which everyone from the hills to the coast was very familiar with by now. They were like a brother and sister to Star's parents; they frequently described themselves as four quarters of a whole, which could never be broken. Star had always liked that. She had often thought of herself and her three cousins in the same way, even though that bond had yet to be tested. The bond between her parents and her aunt and uncle had been forged suddenly, in desperation and panic, and then tested brutally by fate several times in the years that had followed. It was as if the first few hours of their legendary friendship had been so powerful, it had may as well have been forged by the hottest furnace, until the four souls had been fused perfectly together.

Those days of trials seemed to have come to an end. The valley, and indeed the whole land, was at peace now, thanks to them. The four souls were now living an oddly normal life, doing common work that suited them. Star found their contentment strange, considering everything they had been through together. But they always insisted that such times of peace and plenty were reward enough for what they had been put through.

Therefore, the brother and sister were happy to live at the carpentry, assisting Bronden with her work, because some of her old wounds had never quite healed and had left her deeply changed. Norriss had a way with putting things together, and had taken quickly to the work. Shaaran was in no way as physically strong as her brother, and the work didn't suit her in the slightest; but she was a better homemaker than both of her companions combined. It was a perfectly normal and easy role to play in their strange household, which left her plenty of time for her own work as the village chronicler. She had been persuaded at last to keep written records of important things that happened, as the people of Rin had done for a little more than three centuries; but mainly, and more happily, she painted it. On wide, long strips of silk, she painted their history, as their ancestors had done for thousands of years before them. It was a glorious tradition, and she refused to let it die so easily.

They were settled and very happy, now. If Star thought hard enough, she could remember a time, very early in her life, when they had been much less so. Her godfather's own mother had been their hostess when they had first come to the village; even though they had appeared out of the blue and were strangers, she had graciously taken them into her home. Star remembered the woman Sara only dimly, because she had died when she had been small. It had been a time of terrible sadness for her whole cobbled-together family. In a sudden show of compassion that people said was shockingly rare, Bronden had offered her home to the grieving brother and sister; they had already been assisting her for some time by then, and she had stoutly insisted that it was her duty to do so. And so the three of them had lived ever since.

That had been a particularly difficult part of their lives to say goodbye to, to close the door on and leave behind. The door that opened in its wake had brought them no small amount of peace and joy. Time had marched on, and their terrible hurt had been healed by their hard work, their new purpose, and the new family they had become.

In the years since then, Star had come to spend almost as much time at the carpentry as she did at home, because her aunt and uncle now lived there. And so much closer to her house than they had been before! Having them so readily available was hard not to take advantage of, sometimes. When she had been small, her parents had often left her there for Shaaran to look after, when they had been especially busy, or if there was illness being treated in their house. She had passed those hours in peaceful pleasure, as her aunt had helped her learn to read and write, and even taught her a little of how the silks were painted. If Norriss wasn't busy, he would quickly carve her toys to play with, or tell her clever word puzzles he had learned from his grandfather; if he was busy, he would let her sit quietly and watch him as he crafted planks of wood into tables, chairs, bedframes, and other things.

Sometimes, if he had a few hours to spare, she would be watching him tinker with screws and scraps of metal, and strands of copper beaten into threads, as he tried to duplicate some of the impressive machines he remembered from his childhood, in the Zebak lands. They had harnessed machines of all kinds to make their lives easier and safer, he had explained once. He saw no reason why the people of Rin shouldn't do the same.

Star had learned much from her aunt and uncle, since she had been small. They had taught her as many useful skills as her parents had. They had also taught her that sometimes, things get much worse before they get better; but that if she kept hope in her heart, she was sure to find a way. Just as her father had taught them, when he was barely older than she was now. She loved them both dearly.

Perhaps they would let her hide in the carpentry today while she worked. If anyone came looking for her—Forley, in particular—they would expect to find her at the house of books, near the center of the village. Only a few people would think to look for her here, first. She quickened her step, hoping to find them as she expected.

When she rounded the bend and saw the carpentry ahead, she was slightly surprised to see that the yard was empty. Just as she was wondering where everyone she was expecting had gone to, she became aware of voices floating from the building before her. Voices she recognized, speaking sharply to one another, though she couldn't hear what was being said. Curious, she stole to the nearest window and peeked inside.

Once again, she was slightly surprised by what she saw. Her aunt and uncle were in the room beyond, and so was Bronden, but Star had expected this. What she hadn't expected to see was Annad, the older of her father's younger sisters, gripping a scowling and nervous looking Forley by his shirt collar, while she and Norriss argued back and forth. Shaaran and Bronden stood impatiently to the side, watching the scene with annoyance. As if the matter were no large deal, but extremely inconvenient.

Star wondered furiously what was going on, but realized at once that this was why she hadn't met Forley on her walk. It was sort of comic, seeing him gripped and argued over like a child, when he had just recently come of age. He looked absolutely indignant; but he also looked nervous, because the pillar-like woman who held him was the most promising young warrior in the village, and not to be tried. Her brother was a hero, and obviously made of magic, she often teased. He could probably turn you into a slug, if he wished it. She was, of course, merely teasing when she said such things; but somewhere in the part of her that still idolized her big brother, she might have believed it.

For a long moment, Star just watched the whole scene, unable to hear the argument clearly, and let her pale eyes slowly drift over her family. Dark-haired Shaaran, small and slight. Forley, who was dark skinned and curly-haired like his father. Tall, straight, sturdy Annad, with her long golden hair and flashing blue eyes. Norriss, who was oddly strawberry-blonde, but also tall and sturdy, his own eyes flashing, as well. Stocky Bronden, who was somehow shorter than Shaaran, and trying to scowl harder to hide the vague amusement in her eyes.

They were all very different from one another. Now that they were annoyed with each other, though, they looked very much alike, in certain small ways. Suddenly, they reminded Star of how their people must have been, thousands of years ago, when they had dwelt in the Valley of Gold. A time and a place where the strong and the weak, the bold and the gentle, and everyone between those extremes had lived in harmony, as one. Star smiled slightly, as she imagined that most certainly, their people had enjoyed small moments like this one in those days, when they had been whole.

All these long years later, the people of Rin had come to favor the strong, bold extreme, scorning the weak and gentle as being wanting, forgetting that the ones they scorned were still a part of them, and still needed. Slowly, in light of the things they had learned recently, they were changing, trying to become the whole, balanced people they were in ages past. Such change would take time, perhaps many generations; but seeing the argument unfolding inside the carpentry gave Star hope that however long that change would truly take, it would be a welcome and happy transition.

As she continued to watch, she saw Shaaran's dark eyes slide toward the window and notice her. At first, Star expected her aunt to say something, point her out, and get her normal morning back on track. Instead, the woman shook her head, appeared to excuse herself, and glided out of the room without anyone stopping to respond. Star realized that her aunt was moving toward the front door, and so crept from the window to meet her.

When they met on the porch, Shaaran planted her hands on her hips and shook her head again.

"Some days, I simply cannot stand these people," she said tersely, unhelpfully.

"I had wondered why Forley hadn't met me yet," Star said, hoping to prompt an explanation. "I normally can't take five steps from my door without him latching onto me. What happened?"

"Apparently, Annad had gone to look for him, because everyone who needs him this morning has been missing him. He had stopped to say hello to my brother; and by the time Annad caught up with him, they were deep in conversation. You know how the boy rambles... Anyway, she yelled at Norriss for indulging him, and then he started yelling back, and the next thing we knew, they were having a lover's quarrel in our front yard. When we pulled him inside to try and separate them, she followed us inside and dragged Forley with her! And now— _this_ is happening. Oh, that brother of mine...!"

It was unlike Shaaran to be so frustrated, especially with her brother. Star could see how the rather shy woman would be upset, though. She was slightly frustrated, as well; she understood what her aunt had meant. Annad and Norriss had an odd and difficult relationship, these days. As if the idea of being more than just friends had struck their fancy, but they weren't yet sure if it was a good idea to go through with. Also, a show of great feeling was the best way to make Norriss very uncomfortable, even defensive. So, instead of talking about it, as Star and many others in their family would have thought was sensible, they tried to avoid talking about anything at all. So when they did speak, it was in the form of loud, pointless arguments, as if the sudden noise somehow made up for the silence between them.

Much like the argument they were having right now, which probably had little to do with Forley by this point. All at once, Star felt very, very bad for everyone involved in it—except perhaps for Bronden, who had looked to be enjoying herself, in spite of the scowl on her face. She also felt bad because she would be foolish not to use Forley's detainment to her advantage. She had every intention of slipping away while he couldn't run after her, leaving Shaaran to face the problem alone. There was little she could actually do about it, anyway.

Perhaps Shaaran had already guessed what she was thinking, because she smiled and shook her head slightly before saying, "I'll deal with my brother, Star. There's no need for you to get tangled up in his problems. Anyway, from the look of the paper in your hand, I'd say you have a lot of work to do."

Star smiled back, relieved that she wasn't abandoning her aunt entirely, and folded the list in her hand. "I'm almost done with the second adventure," she explained, stuffing the folded paper into her bag. "Mum and papa are in the Pit, but they haven't figured out what it really is, yet," she elaborated in a mysterious voice.

"Perhaps by the end of the day, they will have," her aunt suggested.

"Maybe. I want to really look up some things before I start writing everything down. I want to make sure I use all the right words in the right places. I want it all to be just right."

"You want it to be truthful."

"Yes, ma'am," Star beamed back. As chronicler and painter of the silks, Shaaran was bound by a pledge to only tell the truth with her work. It was something she took deadly seriously; and she had done all she could to instill its importance in her young niece, who was now a chronicler in her own right.

That training had paid off. Star never wrote a single passage in The Book unless she knew for sure that she was writing the truth, and the whole truth. This was why she worked in the house of books, where other written histories were readily available to cross reference. This was why her father's notes, recalling exact details, quotes, and memories, were vitally important. This was why it was taking her months of slow, careful work to complete it. The Book was special. No doubt, it would be crucial in centuries to come, if their people forgot to heed the lessons it told. Within The Book were secrets to the land they lived in, lost and forgotten, and then reclaimed through painful trial and error. By her own father and mother. By her uncle, and the delicate woman standing before her.

If The Book was errant in any way, failed to tell the whole story, if any one detail was missed, it might one day come to ruin everything all over again. All their hard work, their pain and their blood, even their friendship would have been in vain.

And she refused to allow that to happen.

Before she turned to leave, her aunt thrust a bundle of cookies into her hands, and cautioned her to keep track of the time. Apparently, she had also heard that Star had been missing meals; and now, true to her sensitive nature, she was worried. Star promised that she would try to be less careless, and hurried away. Before her cousin was released to track her down.

Though it was early, the heart of the village was already buzzing with its normal activities. Absolutely none of it was new or surprising, for she had seen it all every day since she had been born. She passed everyone she saw with a pleasant smile, and a greeting whenever she was hailed. The only trouble she met was from a small group of children, about her own age, laughing and whispering behind their hands as she passed, in spite of her plain appearance.

Star refused to let it show on her face how much their stares and whispering hurt her. She knew it shouldn't hurt, but it did, anyway. Alanis had been wrong. People weren't going to start thinking she was odd or different or strange—they already thought so. Most were simply too polite or too afraid of her father to say so out loud. Since she had been small, her father had warned her that it would be inevitable, and he had tried to prepare her for it as best he could. The hurt and the loneliness that came with being different could be eased with confidence and purpose, and from love and understanding, he had said; all the same, he had added, such knowledge is little comfort, when one is only 13 years old.

She certainly felt it now. Feeling her cheeks begin to burn from a surge of mixed emotions, she straightened herself even more, and kept striding toward the house of books, as fast as she could away from the sniggering gaggle of children. She knew them all fleetingly, from the few years she had spent with them under the teaching tree. Before her parents had grown tired of the teasing and bullying she had to face every day, and had kept her to study at home. Today, all this time later, she was at least equipped to ignore them; she knew all their names, but she only knew them as tormentors. None of them had changed.

 _But I have changed_ , Star thought proudly, as she at last approached her destination. _I've learned more than they ever will, because my whole family is special, and they've taught me all they know. And most importantly, I've learned to control my temper. Once, I would have lashed out in anger, without bothering to think of what would come later. If I were any other child, people would be proud of me for standing up for myself; but I am different, and would only find myself in trouble. Now I know better._

 _Besides_ , she thought, feeling very flippant as she strode through the door to the house of books, _why should I want to be like them? Especially when I can be me: Star of Rin, writer of books, daughter of heroes. Daughter of the Earth Titan._

That last thought made her feel as though she was glowing. Why be like them, when she could be her very odd, very special self, indeed?

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 _Afterthoughts..._

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I know what you're all thinking just now, and yes. Earth Titan. The explanation gets a whole chapter to itself, here in a minute. It's good stuff. I've worked hard on hammering it all out; and with luck, I've gotten all the pressing kinks worked out of it. It's a "magic system", if you will, which I intend to use in original things someday, so this has been its springboard. Let's get started...


	3. Chapter 3: The Lairad

This chapter is an EXPLOSION of explaining, magic, and backstory. I normally don't settle down to explain so much exposition in one place, leaving little to unfold later. But it is long and complicated, and shapes the entire story; so we're just going to word vomit it all at once and get it the heck out of the way. And believe me—there will be plenty to unfold later.

Again, this magic system is a complex one of my own engineering, and this fanfic is only the springboard for it. Hopefully, this is merely the basis for an original fantasy series I will write one day. But it works very well with this particular story. I still refuse to believe that Rowan went on to live a nice, normal life in the end. He's too special. And I seriously doubt that Sheba have him the medallion TWICE without having plans for him later. We all know her better than that by now. ;D

So, mage. Earth Titan. Married to a Zebak. He's kind of a big deal. XD

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 _Chapter 3: The Lairad_

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As soon as she was inside the cool dimness of the house of books, Star set about finding the tomes she needed. If she was correct, the ones she had been using all week would suffice; she knew exactly where to find them all. She knew the layout of the building as if it were her own home. The histories she was looking for were all exactly where she had left them the day before. She collected them quickly, and carried them to her favorite table near the back of the building.

"Back so soon?" asked a friendly voice. That was Violet, daughter of Maisie, who now kept the books in her mother's place, with the help of her brother and her own sons. She had a kind heart, and was used to seeing Star. She helped the girl in any way she could, thrilled that The Book was being made ready to add to the village's collection. Star nodded agreement with a smile, and Violet smiled back.

"As always, if there is any way I can be of assistance, please let me know," the woman said politely, and returned to her own work.

Once Star was settled in her usual place, she began opening up the books to the places she had marked, arranging them in an arc on the table, as she liked them. In the space between them, she placed the old Book beside the new one, opened these also, and arranged her quills and ink on their right-hand side. Satisfied that her workplace had been properly set up, she sat down on and began to work.

For long hours she studied the scrawls in the old Book, and tried to match the words against her father's notes. The inclusion of quotes, things her parents had said to one another on their terrifying journey through the Pit of Unrin, was especially helpful. This alone painted a much clearer picture of what had happened, exactly. Whenever she came to a loss of good words, or had trouble picturing something in her mind, she would flip through her other books, looking for details she could use. She would scribble notes in the margins of her father's writing, organizing her thoughts and the words she liked. Only when she was satisfied, would she finally copy the complete idea into The Book.

The process was slow—she had been working on this particular tale for nearly a month, and it was only now drawing to a close. Which was kind of funny to her, because this series of events had taken place in a single horrific night. She knew the story well, because it had been recounted to her over and over since her babyhood. All of her father's adventures were common knowledge to her, which was part of why she loved being the one to write it down. This story, however, had always been her favorite; it was the one she had asked for most often, when she had been little.

"Tell me about how you and mum met and became friends," she would ask, as her father tucked her into bed.

"Star, you've heard the tale a thousand times, if you've heard it once," her mother would point out, amused, but eager to have her child asleep.

"That is no trouble at all, my small Star," her father would say instead, untucking her and taking her in his arms as he told the story all over again. Her mother would be reluctant, at first; but she would quickly join in, playing her own part in the story, and stopping to correct her husband when she felt he wasn't being elaborate enough in his retelling. Sometimes, when Star could no longer contain her excitement, she would leap up and pretend to be one of the flesh-eating trees, chasing them around her room, growling like a monster and latching onto them in inescapable hugs.

Star loved it when her father told her stories. Much like her, he only ever told the truth. He told the stories very well, much better than he had written them, with character and feeling; but he never exaggerated anything he or anyone else had done. Nor did he downplay the hard things for her sake, even when she had been a small child. It was his own way of making her strong.

She had made especially sure to ask many people who had been involved with the story about their parts in it, to make sure what she had written of them was as close to what had really happened as possible. That side quest had led her to even interview people who didn't care for her or her parents; but her insistence on being honest had caused them to set aside those differences for a moment. The Book was important to everyone. Even if they had been unpleasant back then, they knew they had a duty to contribute to its completion, and to be as honest as she was.

The hours went by in what seemed like no time at all to Star; she forgot completely to stop and check the time, as she had said she would. The passages she had planned to finish that day, which she had listened to so many times before, had been harder to face than she had expected. She was writing them almost the same way she had heard them told to her all her life. She had schemed for weeks what little twists she would work into them. Now that she was here, it was hard to write about her parents like this: alone and afraid, not sure if they trusted one another, being chased by flesh-eating trees through the ruins of what they now understood had once been their home. It was all so different from how she knew them now: confident and powerful, trusting in one another completely, using the knowledge of that evil place to propel themselves forward, into the future.

The few paragraphs she had floundered through seemed pathetic, compared to days when she had completed a whole chapter or even two before she had gone home for the day. The hours of research and interviews were nothing to her; that was half the fun of her work. If she was honest, the bulk of her delays were caused by hesitation, fear, and sometimes the inability to put her family's hardships into words. She had faced similar problems over the winter months, when she had begun The Book by writing down her father's first adventure. It had seemed easy then, too, for it was another story she knew by heart.

But when the moment came to describe her godfather's inability to swim, her godmother's ridiculous fear of confined spaces, how her grandfather had nearly given up and frozen to death on the Mountain's summit, and how their hearts had all broken so unexpectedly...

Being honest had been so hard all of a sudden, when she could have easily glossed over it, or written something entirely different in its place. Something glorious and miraculous, and easy. Those brief chapters were very simple and wholly honest, in their completeness; but they had taken weeks to overcome and to finally write down.

Slightly exhausted from her struggling, Star closed all her books and stacked them neatly to one side, feeling in need of a short break. To fill that time, she pulled another, much smaller book from the bottom of her bag, and flipped it open to the middle. A little light reading and reflection would ease her mind, and perhaps give her the spirit to write a little more.

It was a book her father had loaned her from his personal library. More and more often, these days, he let her read from his own books on healing and magic, because he knew it was vital that she knew where she came from, and who she was. Also, he knew it would help her put the adventures of his past into perspective with what he had done with his future.

After hearing the stories for the first time, it might have seemed inconceivable that Rowan, the hero of recent legend, would have settled down and become a healer by trade. Let alone a truly magical one, since his adventures had always been overshadowed by some sort of frightening magic. 18 years later, however, that was exactly what he was. In fact, there was very little doubt that he was one of the most magical people in all the world. The talisman of gold that he wore at all times was not only proof of this, but the source of his power.

He had often remarked that during his adventures, he couldn't have wanted less to do with such power. It had been repeatedly thrust on him without request or warning; when he experienced the power of the Earth sigil for the first time, as a boy on an urgent mission, the idea had filled him with revulsion. He had thought of himself as a simple boy with a simple purpose, who could lead a somewhat normal life if only destiny would leave him be. But the power of the Earth sigil had bonded with him, and he had bonded with it in return. All of a sudden, there had been little left to do but accept the fact that his destiny was still to be met, and that he had a lot of training and study to do.

He had been left with few other choices. The Wise Woman Sheba still lived, but she had already been an old woman at the time. She had needed an apprentice to carry on her work, and quickly. All the other small, shy, weak ones she had hoped would take her place had died suddenly, tragically, before their time. She had almost given up hope that someone would come along to take the sigil when she died... And then Rowan had come along, completed every impossible task that had come into his way, and she had known. He was, without a doubt, the one destined to take her place. Not only as the village healer, but as the Wise One. As the one who would carry the sigil. As the Earth Titan.

And now, he was Lairad. One of the four great mages of the world, who bore the ancient magic of the stars, themselves.

The stars, in another, ancient, mystical language, were called Lairad. A collection of all the elemental energy in the universe, which shone so brightly from their own worlds that they were bright enough to see from all other worlds, far and near. In that pure, perfect collection of power, there was room only for creation—and create, the Lairad certainly did. The greatest of the Lairad had created the Dragons in millennia long past, and sent them to carry that perfect creating magic into other worlds. Yet each one came with its own element to rule over, one of the four World Elements: Earth, Water, Fire, and Air.

All combine in the Dragon's lair, her father had been told once. And it was truer than he ever could have guessed as a child. In the Dragons, the four elements combined perfectly, and balance was kept in the world. They, too, were called Lairad, after their mothers and fathers.

Slowly, over many thousands of years, each of the four great Dragons had been won over, in part, by humanity. One by one, each Dragon had gifted humankind with a part of their magic. A small piece of themselves, a powerful talisman wrought from their own bodies, each to one exceptional human being, to carry that power and share its ability to create. These talismans had been passed down through the ages, to this very day. Only one man or woman could hold all the power of a talisman at once. And so the balance remained kept.

These brave, powerful, destined people were called Titans, and were Lairad in their own respect. Even now, there were four of them, keeping their people's talismans.

Star knew the stories of all four talismans, how they had been created and given, and mostly where they were and what was being done with them now. Her own father was responsible for one of them. The disappointingly unlikely boy Rowan had grown up to become the Earth Titan, and wielded the power of the Earth sigil; for it turned out, the people of the Valley of Gold were also the people who represented the element of ancient, silent Earth. Their talisman had the power to grant prophecy, to heal, and even to cloak things and make them invisible for a short time. Earth was the element of solidarity and truth; but at the same time, it kept its secrets. The Earth Titans were excellent guardians of both truth and secrets, giving what they could, but holding back what they knew could be dangerous in the wrong hands. Indeed, there was no one better alive the sigil could have chosen to be its keeper.

Element Air was represented by the wandering Travelers, who had rescued and raised her mother; and their newly appointed Titan was none other than her adopted uncle, Mithren, who had also been a forerunner as a boy. Star had even seen their talisman, once—a magical crystal pipe, which could summon the wind from any direction, cause changes in the weather, granted clairvoyance, and sent messages on the wind. Air was the element of freedom and happiness, and was also the only truly neutral element of the four. It could do little to effect its brothers, and it could never be swayed by any of them. Earth, Fire, and Water conflicted one another in an endless cycle of chaos and destruction. When Air entered the equation, unable to really move or be moved, the cycle was broken; the elements flowed with one another instead of against one another, and creation was made possible.

Far away in Maris, on the eastern coast, the people of Water were led by the Keeper of the Crystal—who had once been Doss of the clan Pandellis, and was only still called so by his fellow Titans. This talisman, the legendary Crystal of Maris, was unique in the way that it could show its keeper the past, present, and future in clear, exact visions, instead of in riddles or faint glimpses of time. It held the knowledge and wisdom of all its past Keepers, giving as much as it took; for aside from purity, Water was also the element of unity and remembrance. While the other elements came and went, being created, existing for a time, and then fading, Water never changed. It rolled in and out, giving and taking, but always remaining. Always remembering.

Meanwhile, far across the sea, the people of Fire—the feared, dreaded Zebak people—brooded in their desert fortress, led by a Titan that the others had no hope of knowing. As far as they knew from study and meditation, the talisman of Fire was a shard of obsidian, for the rather rude, base mineral was precious and powerful to their element. And yet their real power was so much more than a mere token from their host Dragon. Fire was the element of valor and passion, burning fierce and powerful, all-consuming, but easily swayed for good or for ill. According to legend that was almost certainly true, the Dragon of Fire had been so moved by humanity, that he had surely endowed something solid with his power for a Titan to bear; but it was the only talisman that had not been wrought from himself. Instead, he had gifted his people with his own magical Dragon blood, infusing them all with his mighty power for all time.

Only the true Titan could wield the power of the talisman, this much was true. But the Zebak, the people of Fire, all carried a trace of that power in their very beings. They were, themselves, all to be considered Lairad. No other people in the world could claim such a birthright.

The Titans of Earth, Air, and Water had wisely agreed to keep this knowledge to themselves. Star only knew of it because, after long discussion, her parents had agreed it to be only fair that she know and be prepared. When her mother was content to live so simply and peacefully, and so many people were still ignorant of who she really was, it was easy for even Star to forget that she was, herself, half Zebak. Half Earth, and half Fire. She was the only child of the reigning Earth Titan, and that was impressive on its own. It was a closely guarded secret of his, that she also carried at least a tiny amount of the Fire Dragon's blood in her veins. Only a tiny amount, but it was more than enough.

The Titans all had an innate ability to communicate with each other, because their minds were loosely bound to one another; Star knew this not only from her father's stories, but from experience. For as long as she could remember, she had often seen her father enter a trance-like state, as the three of them linked minds and spoke to one another from afar. It was a practical way for them to remain in contact, to discuss the happenings of their world, and make important decisions for their peoples. Yet, for all their relief and joy to never be too far from each other, there was a void where the Fire Titan ought to have been, and she knew it pained them all. For reasons that not even the Keeper of the Crystal could see, for it had happened so many ages ago, the people of Fire had broken away from the others. For many centuries, the Fire Titans had ceased to lend their power to creation and balance. Instead, they used it to wage war on their brothers, to struggle against them and conquer them.

In their youth, the Titans had wondered about this, as they rose to their power one by one. Even before then, they had wondered why the Zebak had always been so bent on destroying them, and what had been done to cause such ongoing conflict. Now they understood that it was simply in the nature of Fire to struggle so for power and dominance. Fire was particularly strong against Earth, could only be tamed by Water, and Air could do little to stand in its way. It was in Fire's nature to try and consume the other elements, to trample anything that would bend to it, and to root out and destroy its one weakness. The Dragon, in his natural state of balance and perfection, might never think of overpowering his brothers and sisters. However, with his fiery blood in their veins and a talisman full of his mighty power, a race of imperfect human beings might certainly think to do just that.

And so, however that rift had been made, it had happened. No one representing the people of Fire had joined the hive mind of the Titans in so long, it seemed impossible that it had ever happened once. The three who remained felt the absence deeply. They lamented that the rift between them and their long lost brothers and sisters might never be mended, that they would never be truly whole, and that the power of the Titans would forever be one of destruction instead of the creation it had been meant to be. They would always have to be in conflict, as long as Fire raged against them.

All of this was a heavy dose of reality, as strong as any potion her father could brew, that Star knew would never become easier to swallow. It was who she was. It was where she came from. But it was a lineage that was hard to bear in secrecy; her father had sworn her to keep the knowledge to herself, and she knew it was unwise to confide in anyone else. Not even her cousins were completely aware of it. Not even her grandparents, who were sure they knew their son so well. Her parents didn't like to think of it, and she didn't either, but she was the daughter of not one Lairad, but two. The daughter of a Titan and a woman of Fire. She had no real magical capabilities of her own, as her father did; but by blood, she was as much Lairad as either one of them were.

Star looked up briefly from her book for a moment, as another dose of hard reality occurred to her. With parents like hers... It was possible that she could actually be one of the most powerful, most important people ever to be born. The idea had occurred to her many times before, and she suspected that her parents wondered the same thing about her; but she didn't like to think of it. All she wanted was to read and write great books, to live freely and happily with her family, and make her home a better place in her own small ways. The destiny that came with being the most important person in the world was sure to be a big one. It would rip her away from everything she had ever known, and she would never be able to go back to the way she was. It would be more sudden, more painful, and more permanent than anything that had happened to her parents.

That was terrifying. And frankly, she had no time for that.

She sighed deeply and sat back in her chair, as she reluctantly remembered that she wasn't without her magical abilities, after all. Normally, the Titans bonded fully with their talismans by a mystical rite, wherein they had to overcome the element they naturally conflicted with. The Air Titans were the lucky ones, as far as she was concerned, for they had no natural conflict, and simply learned to command their crystal pipe through training. For the others, it was different. For three centuries, the Keepers of Maris had been chosen by a man or woman of Rin—of Earth; and before that, they had been chosen by the lost, destroyed Maris clan representing the element which could absorb their power and render it useless. The Earth Titans were forced to undergo an equally intense trial by fire, the element that could most easily swallow them up. However the Fire Titans rose to their power, it certainly had something to do with water.

But Star was different, and obviously special. Apparently, the fiery Dragon blood in her veins was enough to count, for she had never had any trouble using the Earth sigil, herself. Not even as a tiny child. One morning, as her father had held her in his arms, she had held the gold medallion idly in her small hands as she had done so many times before, and asked a simple question.

"Papa, what we will do today?" she remembered her three-year-old self asking. Then suddenly, in a blaze of burning pain, she had received an answer that had left her unconscious:

 _The father's power, bright and gold,_

 _Reveals the secrets that it holds._

 _The time for knowledge is at hand:_

 _Reveal the mother's truthful band._

Star remembered the episode as if it had happened only the day before, though she had remained deeply asleep for most of that day. The force of those visions was enough to leave a young student or an aging master very weak, and craving sleep in order to recover. And Star had been so small and unprepared, her father had feared she had been struck dead from the force. When she had woken at last, with the rhyme still burning her brain, her parents had been beside themselves with worry and fear. Whatever they had planned to do with her that day, it had been put aside for later. Much later, for the rhyme had made very clear that there was a lot of explaining to be done.

Since then, her father no longer wore the sigil in plain sight as he had before, but kept it hidden under his clothes, where she would be unable to touch it. More recently, he had decided that perhaps, now that she was older and stronger, it was more prudent to train her to use it. After all, this unforeseen ability was only proof that the Zebak had dragonish blood in them all; if she possessed the power to use the sigil, it was her right to do so, and her duty to know how to control it. Her mother hadn't approved of this decision; she had stood against it with all her might, and had spent long days and nights quarreling with her husband over it. He had convinced her, in the end; but it had been another difficult test of their friendship, and their faith in one another.

Her training had begun in the previous fall. She would sit with her father in their garden and he would light a small fire, burning sticks of juniper incense, which flared bright green in the orange and red light, to help clear her mind. He would allow her to ask simple, harmless questions of the sigil; and the sigil would give her an equally simple answer. Answers so simple that they never even knocked her out, and were easy to decipher. While the experience still wasn't pleasant, it was becoming easier, less abrupt, and more useful. The words of prophecy no longer felt so much like coals burning their way out of her; and with her father's training and careful attention, she was learning how to think quickly to unravel the future hidden in the riddles.

True to its own nature, the sigil did, indeed, reveal its secrets; at the same time, though, it kept enough back to challenge its bearer to think. To use his or her head. To grow a relationship with its power, instead of just using it. All the talismans had their tricks, she was sure; but the Earth sigil was very picky, very clever, and very wise in how it handled itself.

That was her father's job, though. While she understood that her training was useful and perhaps necessary, she knew this skill was only for use in moments of direst need. The sigil had other powers; but she had no idea how to tap into them, and her father had no intention of teaching her. She may be Lairad, but she was not the one true Titan. She was more than happy to leave that work to her father, who had been chosen by fate and trained for the task.

Somehow, though, Star had a sneaking suspicion that she might not need that choosing or training for the sigil to answer her. She often felt as though the small gold medallion almost called to her, its creating energy singing into her very soul. She had been forged by fire in a most literal way; there was nothing to stop the power of the sigil from reaching into her heart and mind. Begging her to take it, learn of it, become one with it, use it. To take its great power and create with it, and heal with it. To share its light with all the world.

While the sensation was intriguing, almost too much to resist sometimes, it was frightening. She didn't like how the sigil's power wormed its way into her mind, trying to bend her to its will. She wasn't sure how her father could stand it. In fact, there were a great many things he didn't seem to mind, which Star was grateful she didn't have to deal with. The trappings of being a Titan would surely get in her way and hold her back. She had always been told she was too sassy and strong-willed for such a calling. Much like her namesake had been. She was beyond grateful that she would never have to take her father's place.

Star tried to push all these terrible thoughts from her mind and focus on her book again—it was a book on the stars, their names, and the constellations they formed. She had been enjoying it recently, and had been excited to pick it up again. Now that she was thinking of the Lairad, the Titans, the Earth sigil, and her own magical blood and her destiny, it seemed impossible to concentrate. Frustrated with herself, she closed the book and stuffed it back into her bag.

All at once, it occurred to her that she had no idea what time it was, and that it had been a very long time since she looked at a clock or even out a window. She swiveled around in her chair and faced the nearest window, shocked to see how deeply colored the sunlight outside was, and how long the shadows were growing. She glanced at the tall clock in a nearby corner, and groaned in annoyance. It was nearly four o'clock in the afternoon. Her stomach growled suddenly, also aware now that lunch was long over. She was sure to be scolded for forgetting to come home again. And she was still very hungry.

Sensing that she would get no more real work done that day, Star began packing her things away, and stacking her borrowed books to carry back to their shelves. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, she also fished her bundle of cookies from her bag and quietly munched on them as she cleaned up her workspace. Violet didn't like it when people brought food or drink into the house of books, and she probably expected Star to be more respectful and careful. At the moment, though, Star was too hungry to care that much. She couldn't believe how ravenous she was.

 _It serves me right, for forgetting a whole meal again_ , she told herself. _If I could bother myself to remember more often, I wouldn't be so hungry. It seems I'm always hungry, lately, and this is probably why. Alanis will laugh at me; Shaaran will be anxious; and my parents will be angry. All the same, I never actually promised to do anything. I only ever said that I would try. But I didn't, did I... Oh well. I can always try to try again tomorrow._

"Hello, Star. Don't suppose you could spare a bite?"

Star sighed sharply at the mocking, unexpected voice behind her, and turned to narrow her eyes at the brothers who had appeared behind her.

"Hello, Matthew. Hello, Luke," she greeted flatly, her eyes flicking respectively from one brother to the next.

"Food isn't allowed in here with the books, not even for you," sneered Matthew, the older brother, in a superior tone of voice. "Your aunt's work, I suppose?"

"What do you care?" Star retorted. "You're not getting any of them."

"That's a pity," Matthew continued coolly. "In exchange for those fine looking cookies, we might have been convinced to let you slide this time."

Star scoffed. "I'm not bribing you with cookies. They're mine. Anyway, I've been working very hard all day, and I'm starving," she said, cramming two whole cookies into her mouth at once, just to spite the brothers. She had never been great at sharing.

"Leaving so soon?" Luke teased, speaking for the first time. "We had brought a blanket and a pillow for you, so you could spend the night under this very table and not have to go home."

"Charming," she answered dryly, wondering if he was jesting, or if he had actually done this. Matthew was a few years older than she was, and she knew him only as another bully from her childhood. Luke was her own age, and meant about as much as his brother did to her. However, it seemed that Luke had taken a fancy to her lately, and it made her skin crawl slightly. He tried to engage her whenever he could, attempting poorly to be a gentleman; but he always botched his attempts at flattery, because he didn't want his brother to think he was soft in any way. They two boys were rarely apart, and for some reason, Luke really admired his rather unextraordinary brother and wanted to impress him.

Having no one to look up to like that, Star didn't understand it. If Luke had something he wanted to say, she wished he would stop stalling and say it, already. The complicated social dance was a pain, and it wasted her time. She hated it when people wasted her time.

Before either brother could go on teasing her, their uncle came striding deliberately around a bookshelf, spotted them, and approached them with a stern look on his face. Star snatched the cookies off the table and stuffed them back in her bag, hurrying to swallow and brush the crumbs off her lips, before the man noticed. Indeed, it seemed that she had acted quickly enough. He wasn't paying attention to her, but rather to his sister's sons.

"Stopping to waste time with the healer's child again?" he scolded. "How many times have I told you boys to leave her be and not get tangled up in her affairs? Your laziness shames us all. Get back to your work, and don't let me see you speaking to her again."

The brothers muttered halfhearted apologies and scurried away as suddenly as they had appeared. Star was glad they were gone; but she didn't appreciate the way their uncle spoke about her. As if she were a scourge, or an object for passing amusement, and could neither hear nor respond. He hadn't chased his nephews back to work because they had been wasting time. He simply didn't like her, or her parents, because they were different. He didn't want his nephews involved with who he thought of as, the wrong sort of people.

He turned his stony gaze down on her, and she glared back. Oh, she knew what was coming...

"I do not appreciate the way you come and skulk around here every day, making a mess of our books and distracting my nephews," he growled. "Sitting in the shadows, frittering away valuable time, as if you were doing something useful and important. My sister may not mind it, but I find it despicable. Your parents ought to be ashamed of you."

"Never forget," she answered, unafraid, "that I am very much like my parents were, when they were my age. They weren't like you, either. And because they weren't, they were able to save not only your sorry skin, but everyone else in this village, many times. You should be grateful."

The large, muscular man towered above her, simmering visibly with rage; but he had been conditioned from his earliest days to keep his emotions hidden and under control. All the same, he was big and strong enough to snap her in half like a twig, if he was pushed to it. And he was unused to children talking back to him. Perhaps Matthew and Luke had been taught to obey their elders immediately, and without question, and their uncle liked it that way. But Star had been taught differently.

"Grateful?" he demanded loudly, squaring his shoulders. "I am not grateful! Your father is a freak, your mother is a monster, and _you_ are named after a dumb, useless beast of burden."

Star suddenly felt her own rage boil over, as if a flame had been lit deep within her. She could feel it burst like a soap bubble. She jumped up so violently that she chair skittered backwards and toppled over, landing on the hard floor with a crash.

"Star was more useful than you ever were!" she thundered, shoving her finger as hard into his chest as she could. "The adder that struck and killed her had been aiming for my other—without Star, we would have both died! I am proud to be named after her!"

The big man's own rage boiled over—she could see it in his eyes as, infuriated, he snatched her wrist in his hand and gripped it as hard as he could. She gasped as pain surged through her hand, and her fingers went slightly numb.

"Gregory! What are you doing?"

"Unhand my goddaughter this very instant!"

They both turned toward the outraged voices, and Star was overwhelmingly relieved to see not only Violet hurrying toward them, but also Marlie, her godmother, who looked ready to strangle someone. The older woman was striding determinedly across the room, taking full advantage of her impressive height, her face thunderous; Violet almost had to scurry to match pace with her, but that didn't detract at all from how angry she was, herself. Nervous at the sight of them, Gregory quickly released Star and sort of shoved her away from him, as if he had never touched her and the action would excuse everything.

But Marlie was like a lioness, and always had been. If anyone threatened someone she loved, there would be hell to pay for it. In a few paces, she had crossed the room and snatched Gregory by his shirt collar.

"We do not, _ever_ turn our strength on each other—let alone on children!" she growled "As a respectable citizen of our village and a son of Rin, you ought to know better! You should be absolutely sick with yourself!"

Gregory began sputtering an apology, almost too fearfully quiet to understand. He suddenly seemed like a cowering, terrified child, and may as well have been. He was a grown man now, with authority of his own; but in this moment, Marlie was the adult, and he had no power over anything. She was his elder, to be respected and obeyed. That would never change.

Clearly disgusted with his cowering and babbling, she released him roughly and turned to swoop a protective arm around Star, pulling her away from him. Lowering her voice, she asked gravely, "He didn't hurt you did he?"

"No, I'm alright," Star quickly insisted, carefully rubbing her bruised wrist. Even though her godmother's wrath wasn't for her, she was still intimidated by it, just a little.

"Let me see," Marlie demanded anyway, taking Star's hand without waiting for a response. She looked it over briefly, then clicked her tongue in annoyance. "You seem fine for the moment, yes. Well enough to gather your things and come along. Quickly, now."

Star wordlessly obeyed, replacing her things in her bag and slinging it back over her shoulder, listening as the two women turned to one another.

"Marlie, I really can't apologize enough for this—"

"I don't blame you, Violet. I know you would have prevented this, if you could have. You take excellent care of her, and we all appreciate it."

"I will deal with my brother in my own way, and with my sons, as well. The way they speak to Star is unacceptable, and it will be corrected. You can be sure of that."

"Thank you so much for your help."

"And send my deepest apologies to Rowan, also; he should never have to fear sending his only child to work here. I can only imagine how upset he will be with me..."

To this, Marlie laughed sharply. "Rowan? Oh, don't worry about _him_ being upset with _you_. Worry more about what Zeel will do to your brother, should they cross paths," she remarked, as she began herding Star toward the door. "He would do well to avoid her, from now on."

Violet smiled sheepishly in agreement and thanks. "Feel free to come back any time you wish, Star," she called after them. "This will not happen again, I swear it."

Star didn't doubt that. All the same, she left the house of books that day, feeling for once that she couldn't leave fast enough.

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 _Afterthoughts..._

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Yes, stars. Yes, dragons. Yes, Zebak. So many leftover plotholes were so easily and nicely filled in this way, with a little thought. Because, when you think about it, whenever Rowan ends up in a party of four, each one of them has something oddly specific they're meant to do. And each of them can reasonably represent one of the elements. And guess what? Pardon my language, but shit gets done. It makes too much sense NOT to work out. XD

Violet is a reoccurring OC of mine, and is mentioned briefly in _Deluge_ , if you care to look it up. (Which you should. It involves Zeel and Rowan making out in the rain. ;D) She isn't largely important, I just wanted to say that I am perhaps overly fond of her, and that her children are awful. Star and Luke are _not_ a ship, I promise.

If anything in this chapter has boggled your mind—which wouldn't surprise me in the slightest—feel free to send me a private message. I'd be glad to explain it, as I have notebooks FULL of details. For the moment, though, just accept that Rowan and Mithren are magic now. Why Mithren? Because he is the only other Traveler who has a spoken line in the books, that's why. :P


	4. Chapter 4: Discussions

So, I was tired of Allun not appearing yet, so I fixed that. Sadly, he is not a large part of this story. Happily, Forley is a carbon copy of his father, only 5 times as goofy and inappropriate. Because Allun's goofiness is a defense reflex; Forley's goofiness is 99.999% genuine. What's that, you say? Wasn't that Allun's father's name? Why yes, it was. ;D

Also, the idea of Rowan and Zeel dating is adorable; but it turns out that the idea of them being married, and doing stuff that married people do—such as picking up after each other, fighting over things, raising kids, and, you know, living together in general—is by turns hilarious and amazingly real.

Zeel: I'm cooking fish for dinner tonight, okay?

Rowan: That poor fish... It was alive and breathing and you killed it!

Zeel: ...Darling, do grow a spine...

I like to think they've had this argument many times, and that Star laughs at them all the time for it, but that is neither here nor there.

Anyways...

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 _Chapter 4: Discussions_

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For a time, Star walked along beside Marlie in silence, waiting for her godmother's anger to subside before striking up a conversation. She had to admit, she felt embarrassed for losing her temper the way she had. If she had held her tongue, her wrist wouldn't be bruised, and she would be in less trouble with her parents later. But she wasn't embarrassed enough to feel any shame. It hadn't been right for Gregory to speak that way to her, and it certainly was not his place to discipline her, no matter what she said to him. He deserved the earful he had received. Anyway, nearly any other child of Rin would have been expected to stand firm and defend her family. People should be proud of her, she decided.

"I heard what you said about Star," Marlie said suddenly, breaking the silence between them.

"You did?"

"I'm sure people heard it down the street. You were yelling very loudly. I don't know what that boy said to you, but it must have been very hurtful."

"It was."

"Oh, Star, you must keep better control over your temper. Things are changing, but that doesn't mean everyone is ready for it. To most of us, a show of strong feeling is still seen as the greatest weakness. They will tear you apart, if they think they can."

"What about you? Do you think I'm weak?"

Marlie smiled ruefully at the girl's logic. "Of course not. You are strong in your own way, just like your mother and father, and there is no shame in that."

"There are many people who believe there is," Star remarked glumly, letting her eyes wander to the ground. An image of the snickering children from that morning flashed behind her eyes, and she sighed. "People treat me like I'm so different from them. It's hard, sometimes."

"Well, that is because you are different—perfectly different. For myself, I like you exactly as you are. There isn't a single thing I would change about you."

Star smiled up at her godmother, cheered by her words. "Thank you, Marlie. That means a lot to me."

Marlie smiled back, and placed a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Come with me to the bakery," she said. "If I'm right, you haven't eaten since this morning, and we need a hand cleaning up. And I won't let you slip out of the village without bothering to stop by and say hello today."

Star didn't try to argue, and let her godmother lead her. She felt in need of the cheer that only her godfamily could provide. When she was with them, all the rules and pretense that went with village life seemed to disappear; even some of her parent's rules could be overlooked, for just an hour or two. Cleaning up meant day-old muffins, rolls, and cakes that needed to be eaten right away. It also meant tea, and stories and songs, and very little actual cleaning. It was more like a small party. It meant being able to mock and insult the people who were mean to them, and let off steam without starting a fight. It meant being themselves for a while, without the walls they had to use around others.

When she was with them, she could call her godparents by their names. It was considered disrespectful to do so, and her mother might have popped her on the mouth for it, even now that she wasn't a little girl anymore. When they were alone, her godmother was just Marlie, and her godfather was just Allun. It was who they were, they said, and they saw no reason for her to call them otherwise. Besides, Allun frequently joked, such a title was far too dignified for him to bear, or have to live up to. He said it gave him the willies. When he was just himself, it was easier to be the friend to her that he was meant to be.

They walked the rest of the way to the bakery in companionable silence. But in that silence, Star was thinking back to the months just before she had been born. Now that it was on her mind, it was impossible not to think of her namesake, and what had happened to her. She had not been named after a dumb beast of burden—she had been named after a true hero, who was remarkably easy to overlook because she hadn't been human or able to speak in a tongue the people could understand.

But Rowan had always understood the bukshah; and he had understood Star, the largest and gentlest of them all, as surely as if they had spoken the same language. Before people had respected or feared him, she had been his only real friend. As a child, he had often seen her almost as a second mother. She must have been very proud to watch him as he grew up, found his place in the world, and found a mate of his own. And she must have been just as proud when she realized, as she must have, that he was to have a child.

Until only a few years ago, Rowan had continued to spend a considerable amount of his time in the bukshah fields, especially when he had study or meditation to do. It was still the place he felt most comfortable: in the sunshine, with the soft wind in his face, surrounded by the warm, woolly beasts he knew and loved so much. The day the tragedy had struck had been little different. He had been in the fields, as usual; and on that particular day, Zeel had decided to accompany him, even though their child was due in three months and already heavy inside her. She had decided that she needed the walk, if only to get her out of the house for a while. Anyway, she had grown to love the bukshah as much as her husband did, and missed them. It had been planned to be a fine, if not completely normal afternoon.

He had been sitting by the drinking pool, reading one of his books. She had wandered away from him to walk among the young calves, who had clustered around her to snuffle inquiringly at the swell in her belly, which they hadn't remembered from her last visit. It had been just before the first snowfall of another blessedly mild winter; the herd was growing restless, mentally preparing for their yearly trip up the mountain. All was as well as it should be.

All at once, Rowan had felt a warning twitch in his heart, as the medallion silently alerted him that something was not at all well. His dark eyes had shot up from his book, as he scanned the field for any sign of danger. And he had spotted it at once: a streak of jet black, slithering intently across the dead brown grass, directly toward the place where the calves milled around his wife.

He had jumped up in fear, and called to her to beware. She had turned to look at him in surprise, and immediately seen what he already had. Sensing their danger, the calves had scattered, running as fast as they could for shelter.

But Zeel had remained where she was, paralyzed with fear as she had locked eyes with the adder. Nothing frightened her, in general, but she had carried a crippling brain fear of snakes from her earliest childhood. In her mind, they were like the ishken of the west, she had explained. As a toddler, her people had cruelly instilled in her a terror of the loathsome monsters. As a foundling, adopted by the Travelers, snakes had seemed close enough to match the description in her young mind. They dwelt underground, preyed on smaller living creatures, and were, more often than not, inescapably deadly.

The fact that her adopted mother had, herself, been bitten and killed by such a snake, did nothing to help. Instead of turning and running, she had stood frozen as the adder continued sliding over the grass toward her. It was cold, and the snake ought to have been asleep in its den for the winter. This one, it seemed, had ventured out to hunt one last time before settling down to sleep. It had slowed its pace to stare back, no doubt curious of the woman's terror. To her alarm, it came to rest at her feet, staring up at her, daring her to make any sort of abrupt movement. The slightest errant twitch would be enough to provoke it. It had been so close, an attempt to flee would have been useless. It would strike at her heels, and certainly hit its mark.

It would kill her, and it would kill her child. She hadn't dared move, and neither had her terrified husband.

An enraged animal bellow had sounded across the field. Even the adder had turned its head slightly toward the distraction. And, according to Rowan, time had seemed to slow to a painful crawl.

Suddenly, Star was pounding furiously after them, to throw herself between her friend and the black snake. Zeel had been knocked to the ground from the force with a shriek of surprise. The great beast had reared up and brought her hooves crashing back to earth, trampling the deadly creature below her in a rage. It had only taken her a few blows to crush the snake. In short seconds, it was over.

Rowan had run to meet them, filled with triumph and relief. As he ran, though, both feelings had faded back to fear, as Star had begun to sway on her feet. By the time he had reached them, the beast had crumpled to her knees and was breathing heavily. Somewhere in those brief seconds of chaos, the adder had struck her. Perhaps she had known all along that this would happen; or, perhaps she hadn't thought of it at all, as she had rushed to the aid of the woman she knew and trusted. In any case, it had happened. The snake's venom had done its work horrifically well. It had coursed swiftly through her large body; and in minutes, she had died.

Zeel was probably only alive because Star had taken that blow for her, and given her life in the process. And the daughter she had borne had come into the world healthy and whole, in the following springtime, as predicted. The child had become the light of her parent's life, a sure sign that, no matter what anyone said, the bukshah were most definitely capable of experiencing and returning love. There was no better name they could think of for their daughter, than that of the beast who had saved her life.

Star regretted bitterly that she would never know her namesake for herself; but she liked to think that she did, in a way. Her father had been inspired to great courage because of his love for his dear friend. Much of his success was only due to his trust in her, when her sharp animal senses had seen what he had missed. When no one else had seen his worth, Star had felt nothing but faith in him. It had been a beautiful friendship, and it had ended so painfully.

 _And it ended for my sake_ , Star thought, feeling deeply humbled.

"You're awfully quiet, all of a sudden."

Star looked up to see Marlie staring at her inquisitively, while reaching for the door to the bakery. They had walked all the rest of the way in total silence, and had arrived while Star hadn't been paying attention.

"I've just been thinking," she answered quietly.

"Anything you need to talk about?"

"No, I'm fine."

Marlie clicked her tongue in what must have been concern, and ushered Star through the door. It was a habit of hers, and she did it a lot. "If you change your mind, you know that we'll listen. For now, though, let's have a little fun, shall we?"

Star agreed to herself that a little fun was exactly what she needed; and in that case, the bakery was, indeed, the only place worth being. The first thing she saw was Leah, sweeping the floor and humming to herself. Elsewhere, her father and brother could be heard singing the same song as they cleaned their workspace for the day. Leah looked up from her sweeping and smiled to see who was walking through the door.

"Welcome back, mother," she said pleasantly. "I didn't know you left."

"Just to the house of books and back," Marlie answered, taking Star's bag and leaving it by the door.

"And look who you've brought back," Leah added, setting the broom aside to give her cousin a hug. "We've been missing you, Star. If I didn't know better, I'd say you've been avoiding us."

"Well, I've been busy. I'm sorry."

"Is that Star?" someone called from the kitchen. Allun and Forley crowded into the doorway at the same time, looking surprised and excited to see her, but they ended up stuck in the small doorway in their rush.

"Why are you always in my way?"

"Why are you always in _my_ way?"

"I was here first!"

"It's my house, so I was here first!"

"Stop shoving me!"

"Stop pushing me!"

Star rolled her eyes and laughed at them. The father and son looked, sounded, and acted so alike, it was sometimes hard to tell who was who. If only one of them were being serious instead of silly, it would have been easy to tell the difference; Star was certain that Forley didn't have a serious bone in his body. She had never seen him take anything seriously in her life. When he finally pried himself out of the doorway and dashed over to hug her, he was still laughing and joking.

"Ah, silly me. You would think after 18 years, I'd know how to walk through a door! I missed seeing you this morning."

"Yes, I noticed. It was refreshing."

A sane person might have been offended or even hurt by the comment, but Forley just smiled good naturedly. "I shall have to be quicker and cleverer tomorrow, then. No trouble for you today? No faces I need to smash?"

"As usual, no."

"So quick to answer?" Marlie asked casually. "Gregory could still use a face smashing, if you'd like us to do it."

Star wished her godmother hadn't brought it up so suddenly, because now the whole family would be upset and angry. Forley's face lost its teasing edge, and a shade of concern took its place. "What happened?" he demanded.

"Nothing," Star insisted through gritted teeth, shooting a warning look over her shoulder. "I don't want anyone's face smashed. All I want is to see all of you, and maybe eat a cake or two."

"Well, that is good," Allun agreed, "because we have quite a few that need eating. Everyone come into the kitchen, and we'll all get started on that."

"I'll be there in a moment," Leah answered, picking up her broom again. "Just let me finish with this."

"Nonsense," he father said, marching over to take the broom away from her. "There will be plenty of time for sweeping later. Come and join us. We won't start without you, you know."

Leah looked ready to argue, but her father stopped her with a look. She sighed in defeat, and followed her brother into the kitchen. Allun watched her with loving eyes, but it was clear that he was concerned about his daughter. He was used to all her quirks, and he allowed them because they were a part of who she was. He loved his child, and would never ask her to change for anyone's comfort. But if he said that those quirks didn't worry him from time to time, he would be lying.

A fear of heights, or water, or confined spaces was easy enough to hide, to keep secret from people who would look down on it as weakness. A fear of crowds was impossible to hide. Leah could barely stand to be around more than ten people at a time, before she began to panic. It had made her young life very difficult; it would make her adult life infinitely more so.

Star knew that her godfather must be thinking of this, because she knew him and the way he tended to think. But the look of worry vanished from his face, and he turned to her with a smile.

"I'm glad you came to see us today," he said, putting his arm around her and leading her into the kitchen. "There was something we wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh? What is it?"

"Well, let's get to that in a moment. First, there's tea and cake to be had, and perhaps a song or two to be sung. You look in need of cheer, my dear."

Star smiled back, grateful that he knew her as well as she knew him. The friendship they shared was special, very different from the kind of friendship she shared with her cousins, or even with her own parents. She imagined that he saw them reflected equally in her. To him, she was an absolute triumph in every way. He would never ask her to change, either. He knew what it was like to be different from other people, and need to act on it, but have to hide it. If he could provide her a refuge from that, even for a short time, he always would.

There was already a warm pot of tea on the kitchen table, and a platter of the day's leftovers waiting beside it. There was enough for a humble feast, and Star felt her stomach growl at the sight and smell of it. She also noticed that the leftovers included a few light brown cakes soaked with honey—her favorite treat, which she intended to hoard to herself. Already, her spirits were lifting.

"Tell us, Star, how's working coming along with the Book?" Leah asked as they sat around the table.

"Alright, I suppose," Star answered, shrugging as she reached for a cake.

"You'll share with us, of course, won't you?"

"You must share with us," Forley insisted, because his sister was too polite to do so. "You must be nearly done with this part by now, and I'm dying to read more of da being his usual brilliant self."

"He isn't even in this chapter," Star retorted. "As it is, I've spent more time staring dumbly at blank pages, lately, than actually writing anything. Writing some of this has been... Hard. I'm afraid I haven't written much more than you saw last time."

Her cousins looked disappointed. "Have you even finished another chapter yet?" Leah asked.

"I've been trying to finish one for the last two days. I've written exactly four pages, so far, and they haven't even reached the golden wall yet."

"That isn't like you," Leah said sympathetically, sipping her tea. "Is it really that hard for you?"

"You'll have real problems, when they end up on the mountain again," Forley added, poking his little cousin's shoulder.

"Don't tease her like that, son," Allun said quietly, suddenly grave as he remembered what had happened that night, long before the boy had been born. "It may be marvelous tale for you now, but never forget that it is all true, and all as horrible as it sounds. Believe me, because I was there. The experience was far from pleasant, and I'm grateful not to be the one responsible for writing it down."

Star gave him a smile. "It is a hard job, but I'm glad to be the one to do it. Writing has always been my great talent, after all."

"Indeed, it is," Marlie agreed, affectionately patting the girl's right hand, with which she wrote. "You've been writing stories of all kinds since you were able to hold a pen. Before you had words to write with, you wrote with pictures. You're always making up the most wonderful stories, Star."

"Some of them put the Travelers' tales to shame, I think," Allun added brightly, much more himself. "Many a story teller would trade his own tongue for an imagination as fanciful and clever as yours."

Star felt her cheeks begin to burn from the praise. "I wouldn't say that. It's only what comes naturally to me. Anyway, telling imaginary tales is all well and good, but I'd like to start writing things that are true. Things that seem imaginary, but are real. History, but legend, but still history."

Marlie nodded understandingly, but she looked slightly disappointed. "It would be a shame to see such an active imagination set aside, only to make room for dry histories."

"Dry?" Star laughed. "Why, I could never write such a thing as a _dry_ history. Just because something is fact doesn't mean it has to be boring. Amazing and beautiful things truly happen every day. And there are many amazing, beautiful, impossible things that have happened in our world, which people must understand really happened. I'm going to find them all, and write them down, so that all people will know which of our legends are actually facts."

Leah laughed lightly at the bold declaration. "Sounds like you have a lot of history left to catch up on."

"I don't mind. The Book is a good place to start. And, if you are really interested, you can look over those four pitiful pages. The Book is in my bag, by the door, so feel free to go get it. But I shall know if even one of my cookies is missing, so don't even think of touching them."

The brother and sister left the table together, intent on retrieving the Book from her things. Neither of them agreed not to touch her cookies, though, and she wondered briefly about that.

 _How many were left, anyway?_ She thought suddenly. _Six? Seven? I've eaten four already, but... How many were there to begin with? I can't remember now..._

She dismissed the thought, and turned back to her godparents. "You said there was something you wanted to discuss with me. What was it?"

"Slow down, Starfire, I said we would come to that later, didn't I?" Allun answered with an exasperated smile.

"Now is later than it was before, and I'm burning with curiosity. Tell me!"

Marlie chucked over her tea. "The child has you there, my dear," she commented. "You had may as well satisfy her curiosity. You'll have no peace until you do."

Allun sighed and shook his head. "So it seems. I might have known; trying to argue with either of her stubborn parents has always been impossible. Oh, why did I allow them to have children? That was foolish of me."

The three of them shared a laugh over his pretended despair, but Star had to wonder why he was trying so hard to avoid this discussion, when he had seemed so excited about it before.

"Allun, please, just tell me what's going on with you. Have I done something wrong?"

"Far from it, lovely. You see, the two of us have been talking about this for a while, now; but we decided a few days ago that if there is a choice to be made, it should be your own. It would mean much to you, we think."

Star sat forward in her chair. "Okay, what is it?"

"Well, when we go to the coast this fall, we want you to come with us."

Star felt her heart pound with excitement, and her smile broadened into a grin. "Really? You want to take me to Maris with you?"

"It's well in advance, we know. But it's best to have the decision made now, so we can be better prepared later."

"We had hoped you would join us this past year; but when we asked your parents about it, they insisted you stay here," Marlie explained slowly. "Granted, you were very busy in the fall, and so were they. We chose not to bring it up with you then, because you would have only been disappointed and angry, and you had important work to do with your father. This year, we hope it will be different."

"Which is why we've put the choice to you, first. We know what the trip would mean to you, but we beg you not to make your decision lightly. It's a long trip, and a long stay, and a long trip home again. You've never been very far from this place, either. It's an exciting decision to make, we know very well; but by all means, make it wisely."

Star sat back, trying to take it in. She felt another surge of mixed feelings, as she faced the happy news. She was thrilled at the opportunity for her first real adventure. She was also a little angry that she might have gone on the last trading trip, and no one had told her about it until just now. But mostly, she was just excited, too excited for the anger to even take root.

She had been wanting to travel to Maris for several years, for a list of perfectly reasonable reasons, but had always been gently told that she was too young to go. That had always seemed a poor excuse, because all three of her cousins had been going with their own parents for years. For them, it was part of learning their trades. Star's family had little to trade on the coast, and so they never went on the trips. Her parents hadn't been to the coast since she had been very little, and she had never been there at all.

All the same, there were things in Maris that she was dying to see. The glittering waves and the sandy shore were tempting enough. The Maris also kept an impressive library, the hub of their world's history, which her cousins had told her many tales of. She understood that the library was two stories tall, and that the town's finest scholars were always working on new books to add to the collection. She longed to see it for herself, to watch the scholars at their work, perhaps even to join them briefly and learn all she could from them. Her heart yearned to pour through that vast collection of knowledge, to take from and give back to it, and remember every precious ounce of understanding she could get from it.

More pressingly, she wanted to meet her father's friends there. His adventure in Maris was as famous as any other, and it was the next one she would have to write. If she was unable to know his friends, or at least interview them, how was she supposed to be truthful in her writing? She knew the story, as she knew them all; but she didn't know these strange, silent people the way she knew her family. It was a piece of the puzzle she knew she couldn't do without. The thought of having to do without it anyway had been bothering her, as the writing of the second adventure began inching closer to its end.

No matter what her godparents said about choosing carefully, she knew that passing up this opportunity would be foolish. And now she understood why her godparents had wanted to ask her, but had been so hesitant. Of course they knew that she would answer at once, without thinking. Also, it was clear that her parents had no idea that this was happening. Her own mind was made up. Her mother and father would surely try to talk her out of it, but there was no way she was changing her mind.

"I'm going," she said solidly, unable to stop grinning. "Oh, I am going, and no one can stop me!"

"Going where?" came Forley's voice from the door. He and Leah had returned, the Book safe in her responsible arms, and were staring inquiringly at her.

"No one is going anywhere yet," their mother informed them. "As it is, Star still needs to speak to her parents about it."

Star gave her an imploring look. "Do I have to?"

"Well, we're certainly not going to let you run off without telling anyone, if that's what you were thinking. You shall have to convince them, somehow. Otherwise, we can't take you. They are your mother and your father, after all, and we will respect the decision they make."

"Then convince them is exactly what I will do," she announced. "I will be going to Maris, and there is no Titan alive who can stop me."

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"No. Absolutely not."

"Aw, papa, please!"

"It's out of the question. You will stay right here, where you will be safe. And the next time I see Allun, I'm going to strangle him for putting these ideas in your head. You're not going, Star, and that is final."

Zeel stood in neutral silence as her daughter went on whining, wondering what her husband thought to accomplish by arguing. It would only make the situation worse, she was sure. She also wasn't sure what Star thought to accomplish with her whining, because that rarely convinced her father to do anything for her. Clearly, the girl was excited and desperate.

For herself, she couldn't see what the problem was. If Star wanted so badly to go to Maris, and someone was willing to take her and keep her out of trouble while she was there, there ought to have been no problem at all. But she knew her husband well, and knew that idea of their only child being so far away for so long worried him deeply. Rowan had always been one to worry needlessly, especially over the people he loved. It was his way of caring for them. Considering that he had honest magical power now, she felt more than ever that his worrying was silly.

"Rowan, my love, may I speak with you for a moment?" she interrupted, gesturing toward the door.

"I can't leave this now," he answered, not looking up from the simmering pot he was stirring. "There are patients expecting this potion tomorrow; and if it boils over, I won't have the time to start over again."

"Now."

At last he looked up, as if he intended to say no again, but the unimpressed look she pinned him with instantly changed his mind.

"Yes, dear," he sighed. "Star, look after this for me. I'll be back in a moment."

Star groaned in annoyance, but she obediently stepped forward to take her father's place at the stove. She began muttering angrily under her breath, stirring the potion with what seemed a rebellious vengeance, as her parents left the room together. They went into the small study and closed the door behind them.

"I can't see why you're so against this," Zeel commented, her tone matter-of-fact as always. "If she's been offered this opportunity, she ought to be able to take it. The trip could be good for her."

"Or she could walk headlong into trouble, and we won't be there to stop it. She's only a child, after all."

"She's 13 years old, Rowan. A child she may be, but she's hardly a baby. She's hardly a little girl, anymore. Moreover, she can take care of herself; we've both seen that. And her own reasons for wanting to go are far from self-serving. She could accomplish a great deal on this trip."

"She thinks she will find some grand adventure, if she leaves. What she will find is trouble. She's not ready for this; she is far too young, and not wise enough yet."

"You were barely older than she is now, the first time you went to Maris."

"And look what happened!"

"She's never even been away from Rin, not once in her life."

"My point, exactly."

"And how do you expect her to learn or grow, if she remains cooped up here for the rest of her life? Besides, think of what it would mean to our friends. They haven't seen her in years, since just after she was born. It would mean the world to them, to really meet her for the first time."

"I know, but... What if something goes wrong? What if something terrible happens, and we aren't there to stop it?"

"She will be fine. We've both taught her well, and she will handle whatever comes into her way. Anyway, she will be with Allun and Marlie. They will take care of her."

"That's half the reason I'm worried.

"Why can't you just trust her? Star may be a child, but when has she ever gone deliberately seeking trouble? A little excitement, perhaps; but trouble, or danger? She is wiser than you give her credit for."

"I do trust her. And I never said that she was foolish. All I said was that she isn't ready for this."

"Well, I think she is. I think she should go, if she wants to."

"I am her father, and I say no, she can't go."

"I am her mother, and I say yes, she can."

"Zeel..."

"Rowan..."

They both crossed their arms and stared each other down, locked in another battle of wills. It seemed to Zeel that this happened a lot lately, and it annoyed her. They had had their differences in the past, but she had thought that those days were mostly over. Now that their daughter was growing up, they had quickly found that they had their own ideas of how to care for her. When Star had been a young child, agreeing on what was best for her had been easy. Now that she was a restless teenager and able to act on her own, coming to agreements was often difficult.

The fact that her husband was a Titan, and taller now than she was, didn't make reasoning with him any easier. Not that reasoning with him had ever been particularly easy to begin with. Arguing with him had always been like trying to argue with a wall. He may have been diminutive, but he was tougher and more stubborn than he had ever realized. Now that he did realize it, and had the magic of an entire element at his command, he took full advantage of it. She glared up into his dark eyes, unintimidated by his power, and wondered vaguely at a time when he had only stood as high as her shoulder.

That time seemed impossibly long ago.

"Rowan, I'm going to be very blunt with you, now," she said crisply. "There are a great many things I have allowed you to do with our daughter which I didn't care for in the slightest. Some of them, I'm still not sure if I should have allowed so easily. But you are my husband, my dearest friend, and the father of my only child, and so I have trusted you. So I ask you, will you not trust me in the same way?"

He sighed slowly, and his face softened into an understanding smile. "Of course I trust you. I'm just... Afraid for her. I can't help it."

"Any father would feel the same," she agreed. "But Star is growing up, and she needs to find her place in the world for herself, as we have. And if we keep her locked away from the world, she will never be able to do that. She would be safe and protected, surely; but we both know that she would be perfectly miserable."

"Yes, I know..."

He was so conflicted, torn between the knowledge that this day had been bound to come eventually, and his strong need to protect his only child. Zeel understood why he worried the way he did, and she knew there was nothing she could really say to make him less anxious; but she wished dearly that he would just relax, and have a little more faith in their daughter. But, if she was honest with herself, the thought of Star being away for a month or more worried her slightly, too. She had never been parted from her child before. It would be a large step into the unknown for all of them. Worry was the least of what she felt over the matter, but it was still there.

At a loss for words of particular comfort, she stepped forward and gave her husband a hug. Never once had that failed to cheer him, when he was upset.

"Don't think for even a second that I don't appreciate how hard this is for you," she said quietly. "This is hard for me as well, you know."

"I suppose I will have to let her go, sometime. I don't like to think of it, but that day will surely come."

"We will reach that day measure by measure, as the family we are. You know, reading what Star has written lately has gotten me to thinking. It seems like an impossible and horrible dream. We are so close now, and so changed. It's hard to believe there was ever a time when I didn't trust you."

"It's hard to remember a time when I didn't have your friendship to count on," he agreed. "A time when I didn't think of you as my family."

Zeel smiled ruefully, as terrible memories came to her mind. They had entered the Pit of Unrin despising each other, furiously annoyed to be trapped in each other's company. She had thought then that he would be easy to control, even to ignore, because she had been taller and stronger, and Zebak, besides. The moment they had realized that they were both terrified, separated from everything they had ever known or loved, and very much alike on the inside, had changed everything in an instant. In a split second, they had become allies. In less than an hour, they had become friends.

And in less than five years, they had fallen in love and become husband and wife. What had begun as bitter hatred had quickly changed into the deepest, closest kind of friendship imaginable. There were still moments when they were angry with one another, because they were two very different people, and their ideas often conflicted. But that was all a part of friendship, after all.

Still grasping his shoulders, she stood back slightly and looked him in the eye.

"I love you, and I would never knowingly do anything to hurt you. Please trust me when I say that everything will be fine, in the end."

He sighed deeply, and let his forehead rest against hers. "Very well, then. I will trust you on this. It still worries me; but if she really wants to go, she may."

"She will be thrilled to hear it," she answered, giving him a soft, reassuring kiss. "You're a good father. There are few things you could do to make me say otherwise."

He regarded her with a grateful smile, perhaps also remembering the moment when their friendship had begun. "I love you, too."

"I know. You tell me so a hundred times a day."

"Not enough," he answered, opening the door and letting her step first out of the study. He followed her out, and walked with a new purpose back to the kitchen.

Star was still brooding over the stove, still mumbling to herself with a scowl on her face, though her stirring had slowed to a more careful pace. When Rowan leaned against the counter beside her, she staunchly refused to look up at him.

"Hello, Star."

"Hello, father," she petulantly muttered back.

"I'm going to make you a deal," he said evenly. "It is springtime now, and the trip is early in the fall. That leaves you easily six months to finish the Book. Complete your first draft by then, and you may go."

She looked up suddenly in surprise, nearly splashing some of the potion out of the pot in her haste.

"You really mean it?"

"Yes, I do. It is a challenge I believe you can rise to. Do you accept?"

Star squealed with delight, abandoning her stirring to embrace her father. "Yes, I do! I absolutely accept!"

He laughed and returned the embrace. "I thought you might. It is a generous deadline, so I'm counting you, understand?"

"I understand completely. In fact, I suddenly feel inspired to finish a few passages."

"Go to your work, then. I will take over, here. Thank you for looking after this for me."

"You're welcome," she answered brightly, kissing his cheek before darting out of the kitchen. As she passed her mother in the doorway, she gave her a brilliant smile.

"Mum—"

"Call it a late birthday present," Zeel said lightly, stroking her daughter's hair. With a knowing wink, she added, "We women have to have our ways, you know. Now go about your work, as your father said. You've a lot of work to do."

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 _Afterthoughts..._

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 _From August, 2014…_

Three weeks and nine pages later, I am perhaps overly proud of how this chapter turned out. It is positively perfect to me, and I love it, and it is my favorite thing I have written recently. 8D

Again, the thought of Rowan and Zeel as a married couple tickles me to the bone. There are so many opportunities for hilarity, tenseness, and fluffiness, all at the same time. It's a complex relationship, but it can also be so simple. And no matter what is going on, it's always fun to write. They really are a fanatic's dream ship.

On a funny side note, there came an unexpected speed bump during the scene in the bakery, when I suddenly had no idea what to write. All I knew was that the ensuing paragraph had something to do with cakes—those honey cakes in particular, for some odd reason—and that it would somehow transition into a conversation, but I had no idea what the words were yet. It took me two weeks of staring listlessly at the open word document before figuring out what they were. And then, shockingly, the rest fell together in a matter of hours. BUT, that is writing, for you. :/

Also, as my 7 year old brother has been reviewing in advance for me, I asked him out of pure curiosity how he felt about Star dying. He answered very plainly that he was unmoved by it, that Star wasn't a particularly major character in the first place, and that he wasn't sure what kind of horrible monster he was, but it just didn't make him feel sad in any way. Kids just say the darndest things, am I right? XD


	5. Chapter 5: Preparations

Bronden has only one line in this chapter, but I think she steals the scene entirely. I can't glance over that line without snickering to myself. Just a little comic relief. Ya know, from Bronden! Yeah! 8D

Also, Alanis has way more issues than she lets on. I seriously delved into her character right before I wrote this chapter, because the problems she is facing here are only the symptoms of a much bigger thing. More on that in the next book. ;)

PROPHECIES. EPIC FORESHADOWING. Both are thrillingly awesome in this chapter, so stay on your toes. Some details that don't seem to matter will come back around to be very important in a few chapters. Stay alert. Don't forget ANYTHING that happens.

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 _Chapter 5: Preparations_

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Now that she had a deadline to meet and her dearest wish hanging in the balance, Star found that the things that had held her back for so long had disappeared. Even when she had to write the most intense parts of the adventures, and the fear rose to block her again, she would take a deep breath and close her eyes, picturing the sight of Maris as clearly as she could. Then, she could always find the nerve to press forward.

After that, finishing the second adventure took only a matter of days. She had continued to begin the next one on the same day it ended. The first few chapters were a mass of history and explaining, anyway, and she needed very few interviews to gather the information she needed. She decided, since she was only working on the first draft of the Book, after all, she would write what she could and write it as well as she was able, and then take notes from her other important sources when she finally met them. Then, when she wrote the final draft, she would make amendments based on her notes.

Perhaps, she frequently thought, she would travel back to Maris to work on the final draft with the scholars at the library. There, she would have the time, the resources, and the peace and quiet to make it perfect. The finished product would have to be free of any kind of error. Ink could never be erased, and the Book as it was full of crossed out and refilled words and passages; there were also notes she had made in the margins, and things she had marked to be dealt with later.

When he had looked over the completed second adventure for the first time, Norriss had shaken his head slowly over the idea that she had worked so hard already, and would eventually have to rewrite the entire thing by hand with the pressure of making no mistakes.

"The Zebak have a device for this," he had mentioned. "It's called a printing press, if I recall correctly. Hundreds of copies of a single book can be produced in a matter of days, without error, and exactly the same from copy to copy. I've often wondered how such a machine works, and have tried before to come up with a design that could come close to it; but such things were never meant for the eyes of a slave, and so I've never seen one, and have no idea how it might work. Ah, such a machine could change our world! I wish I could figure it out..."

"The Zebak have a device for everything, it seems," Bronden had commented dryly. "If I had a pence for every time you've whined about it, I would be a rich woman, indeed."

Whatever the stocky little woman had to say about it, Star had been intrigued at once. It sounded like exactly what she needed. She had always intended to pen at least five copies of the Book, because it was a tome that everyone in their world deserved access to, and ought to have at least one copy reserved in case something happened to one of them. The work that would surely take seemed daunting at times, and she tried hard not to think about. A printing press would solve that problem easily, however it worked.

 _Perhaps I shall have to sneak into the Zebak lands, myself, someday,_ she thought. _Then maybe I could steal a printing press and bring it back for us to use. Or, at least, I could get a good look at it, then come back and tell Norriss what I've seen. Such knowledge would be a miracle to him. He can build anything; if anyone can build me my printing press, it's my uncle._

She wondered vaguely if the Maris scholars might have an idea or two on that. But then, something like a printing press would destroy their whole purpose, and would likely be seen as more of a threat than a blessing. The Maris were more wary of change than the Rinfolk, somehow; she had only just written of that, herself. Would they even deign to use a device invented by their worst enemy?

Probably not. If there was one thing they liked less than changing their ways, it was the Zebak and everything to do with them. It was a marvel that any of them, let alone three or four of them, had become friendly with her mother.

That didn't stop Star from dreaming of a printing press, as she worked diligently on the Book. She continued to work well into the summer, though she had decided to make a change of her own by working away from the house of books, when she could. If she needed references for her day's work, she would stop by in the morning, take notes on what she needed, and then hurry away back to her own house. She didn't want to see Matthew, Luke, or Gregory any more often than she had to. When she did see them, the boys would laugh and call her weak-willed for being frightened away so easily, and their uncle would give her a glare which she swore could melt solid bone. No matter what Violet said, she knew that she was no longer welcome there.

In fact, she had taken to working in the shade of the orchard. Being surrounded by nature had turned out to be as inspiring as working surrounded by knowledge. Also, she frequently saw her grandfather and her cousin as they went about their own work; and teasing her grandfather with her progress was always fun. For all his size and strength, Strong John of the orchard had always played a surprisingly minor role in the adventures. He was a powerful presence in each one, but the fact that he had always found himself so powerless in moments of true need still peeved him to his core.

This was half the reason that writing the tales had been so hard, before. It was hard to picture her imposing grandfather as being so helpless. Knowing that such a thing had happened, not once but in five monumental instances, was humbling. Reading the tales as they were completed, reliving those moments when he had been powerless to help his stepson as he plunged into terrible danger, was inwardly very difficult for the big man. He never would have let it show on his face, but Star knew anyway. Reading the original copy had been almost fun for him, because it had been ridiculously errant and easy to laugh over. Reading the new, nearly perfect copy, was a bitter reality.

But he read every tale that Star completed, and he did so happily, because he was so proud of her. Many people had opposed the idea of her parents marrying; and, shockingly, John had opposed it more strongly than anyone else. It had come from an honestly good place in his heart, because he loved them both dearly. He had guessed that they would face impossible hardships from the people who still disliked them; and many of those hardships had come to pass. He had tried furiously to talk them out of it, and it had dismayed him when they had eventually come to ignore him, even when he begged them to change their minds.

All this time later, he had learned that they were quite happy and content, in spite of the challenges they faced regularly. And he had finally accepted that his stepson no longer needed his constant care or supervision, because he was a grown man and able to take care of his family for himself. John had decided a long time ago to simply be happy for them, and the life they had made, and the triumph their daughter was. He wasn't related to them by blood, but he was their dear friend and meant much to them all. Whenever he referred to Star as his granddaughter, he did so in great pride.

One afternoon, just after midsummer had passed, John nearly tripped over Star as she dozed in the shade of one of his trees. The Book was closed, tucked safely in her arms, and her quill rested discarded on the grass near her hand. She looked pleasantly exhausted from her work, and he wondered if it was right to rouse her. Asleep in the grass, she looked more like her father than ever. The thought brought a smile to his face, as he recalled many days in the past when he had found Rowan looking exactly like this.

But he was unable to resist waking her, for a chance to get revenge for how many times she had teased him recently. He knelt beside her and shook her gently.

"Star, wake," he commanded. "We can't have you dozing off now, when you've important work to do."

Star's eyes fluttered drowsily, pale blue against her dark skin. "I was just resting," she mumbled, not quite awake.

"Here I was, thinking you had a deadline to meet," he teased. "And you said only this morning, you were so close to the end."

She flashed him a brilliant, slightly devilish smile, and lightly tapped the Book with her finger.

"I know," she agreed. "And I did. I finished it."

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The days leading up to the trading party's departure were filled with particular excitement. Star wasn't the only one looking forward to the trip. Forley and Leah had been going on the trips since they were small, because both of their parents always went, and they counted the days to it all year. Leah loved traveling the free, open hills between her home and the coast, where there were no crowds to get in her way; and Forley had friends in Maris who he looked forward to seeing, as much as his father did. Allun normally wouldn't have gone anywhere near the sea if he could help it, but a rare chance to see his old companions was impossible to pass up.

It was an important year for Alanis, as well. This year, she was traveling to the coast to trade all by herself. She had also been going to the coast from a young age, because her father had been teaching her this important side of their work. However, when he wasn't tending his trees, John was busy with other work as the village elder—he had been chosen to take the post from Lann, who had passed away shortly after Star had been born. A month was a long time for their leader to be away from home, and everyone had anxiously awaited the day when Alanis could go alone in her father's place.

That day had finally arrived, and Alanis was very proud. Also, she seemed quite ready to be away from the village for a while.

"The life of the village elder's only daughter has its pains, as well as its joys," she explained when Star asked about it. "Mother is insistent that I present myself to the people soon, so I might find a suitor as quickly as possible. She says it's past time I leave the trees behind and think to my future. I wish she would stop badgering me about it. Whatever my future holds, it most certainly includes the orchard. Who else does she suppose will care for it, when father retires?"

"It's just her way of being concerned for you," Star pointed out. Her own mother often said the same, whenever Alanis complained. And it seemed like she complained a lot, lately. But it was the only truth there was to it.

"Well, I wish she would stop being concerned," Alanis answered huffily. "She's always trying to paint my face, and pin my hair up, and force me into frilly dresses that I can't breathe in. She says it will make me more… desirable for a good husband. If that's what it takes to get a husband, I'm not so sure if I want one."

Star could see how her cousin would be so distressed about it. Frilly dresses and painted faces didn't suit Alanis in the slightest; and a man who only cared about such things in a wife wouldn't suit her, either.

She could also understand why it was so important to her grandmother, though. Jiller was normally a reasonable woman and an attentive mother; but Alanis was her youngest child, and it was a thinly veiled secret that she worried about the girl. Her older children had grown to become overly remarkable—Rowan was always in some kind of magical trouble, and feisty Annad was always trying to follow him into it. Neither of them were the normal, manageable children she should have been able to expect; the knowledge that danger always seemed to be chasing them pained her, as deeply as their success filled her with pride.

From the day Alanis had come into the world, she had been determined that the girl would never find such extraordinary trouble. There would be no adventures, no monsters, and no magic clouding her life. Her older children didn't particularly need the security of a settled marriage and a comfortable life; they were well respected, even famous, and would make their own ways in the world. Surely, though, Alanis was to be different. Surely, she would be like everyone else. She would take a husband who would provide for her, and live a life of comfort, as her mother had done. As almost every daughter of Rin had done since their people could remember.

Alanis was far from content with this prospect. She was tall and strong as anyone else, but she was different in her own ways. Like Star, she was like a female copy of her father—she was stoic, sturdy, and free in a way that was almost manly. She liked the solitude and peace of nature more than she liked dealing with people. Trees can't fight with you, she said. Trees let you lead them; and if the creatures nesting in them have a problem with it, they find a different tree and leave you alone. People battle you for power; and a husband would demand that you follow him tamely, like a loyal lapdog.

Such an untamed spirit would never suit her mother's plans for her. A respectable man would never take such an unruly young woman as his wife; Annad had already proven this. The pretty little child had grown into a beautiful woman, who had seen many a suitor come and go. Her fiery spirit had frightened them all away, in the end. That same kind of personality was strong in Alanis; for all her beauty, and for all that her father was their leader, she was too intimidating for any young man to brave.

John believed that this was for the best. He believed it would prove a worthwhile test for any boy brave enough to pursue his only child, as it had proven for his adopted daughter. Where Jiller only saw a string of missed opportunities, he saw a blessing. All the young men who had thought to pursue Annad had only done so because she was something of a legend. They had only wanted to be seen with a beautiful hero on their arms; but none of them had deserved her. Dragging her around to show off was impossible, and so they had given up. And they had given up so easily. None of them could have been bothered to be try.

And Alanis was so like her half-sister, John was certain that it would be the same thing all over again. Suitors would come and go, wanting to wed their leader's beautiful only daughter, and gain glory for themselves without earning it. Even if Alanis was foolish enough to entertain such a suitor, he would never bless such a union. His own wife could lament, scream, even beg all she wanted. John simply wasn't sure if there was a boy worthy of his daughter's hand in all the world; and frankly, he didn't care. In the end, it was her choice to make, and he was confident that she would make it wisely. And he saw no reason why she should change to please anyone but her own self.

Besides, she may have been Jiller's youngest child, but she was John's _only_ child. The longer he could keep his little bear cub to himself, the happier he would be. The thought of giving up her care to anyone made him more uncomfortable than anything else, and he tried desperately not to think of it.

It was a lot for one young woman to take from her parents, and Star was beyond grateful that her own parents would never put her though such a thing. Thinking of all this, it was no wonder that Alanis was so anxious to be leave Rin for a while.

 _I would feel the same,_ she decided. _Certainly, mum and papa have disagreements over me from time to time; but they never get in my hair about any of it. I can't imagine what it must be like, having your mother and father so tangled up in your own affairs, trying to plan your life for you. That would be a peeve like no other. For Alanis, it must be very painful._

She also imagined that her grandmother was probably in a bad mood about Alanis going on the trip, and resolved to avoid the woman as much as she could.

In the meantime, she let her three cousins fill her mind with ideas of the things they would do together while they stayed in Maris. Leah planned to take Star for long walks along the shore, where they would collect the shells and serpent scales that washed up in the tide. Alanis was excited to show her the sunrise and sunset over the water, and the clear brightness of the constellations in the night sky; she said that on the coast, over the vast expanse of the sea, the stars they knew so well had an unearthly beauty. And Forley wanted to introduce her to his friends—one friend, in particular.

"Her name is Iris, and she is of the Fisk clan" he explained. "You may have heard me mention her once or twice before, but I doubt you realize who she is. Or, rather, who her father is."

"Well, are you going to tell me? I can't exactly read your mind, you know."

"Oh, you disappoint me, Star—your fathers are friends, and you just wrote about it recently. You could easily guess."

Leah rolled her eyes at her brother, and answered for him with an excited smile. "Her father is Seaborn, who represented Fisk in the choosing. Do you understand now, Star?"

Immediately, Star's face lit up. "I do understand!" she agreed. "He and papa have certainly remained friendly, in spite of the time and distance that has separated them. I never realized that he had a daughter—or any children, even."

"His family and mine seem to understand each other well," Forley went on, looking pleased to know something that Star didn't. "Seaborn gets along very well with my own father; and Imlay, his wife, has taken up weaving as a hobby, so she and my mother are friendly and do a lot of business together. It's little surprise, then, that Leah and I are friends with Iris. We have played together every year that we have gone to the coast."

" _He_ plays with her, is more accurate," Leah interrupted. "And in recent years, they play together less than they run around Maris looking for mischief together. Last year, they snuck off to climb the cliffs and were attacked and nearly killed by the fighting birds."

"And they didn't invite me," Alanis added crisply. "I would have liked very much to test my strength against one of the fighters. And our foolish friend might have made it out of that adventure with fewer cuts and scrapes. "

"Perhaps we will try it again this year," Forley suggested, winking slyly at her. "Perhaps, we will drag Star with us, as well. Then she can see exactly how fearsome they are, as Rowan did at her age. It will give her ideas for when she writes her final draft, which I think she will like."

Leah laughed shortly. "Perhaps you will… If mother and father let either of you out of their sight. They swore to themselves that you would never do such a thing again, if they could help it. And they also swore that they would keep Star out of trouble. An encounter with the fighters is exactly the sort of thing that Rowan worries about, after all. If she comes back with such stories, he might never let her go to Maris again. And I doubt she would like that very much at all."

Leah was right, of course; but Star couldn't help but be excited by the idea of a short trip up the cliffs. A month was a long time to spend in such a strange town, with so many places she had heard of to explore. She had assured her parents that she would spend most of her time at the library, where she would be far from danger of any kind, and easy to find. She had also promised that she would obey her godparents while they were in charge of her, and that she wouldn't cause them any trouble. However, if Forley and Alanis had plans to do anything more interesting than that, she was determined to join them. She had never made any promises about that.

The day before the trip found Star ready and fully prepared to leave the following morning. It was so close, she was nearly dizzy with excitement. She wasn't too dizzy, however, to sit with her father in their garden to practice with the Earth sigil, as they had continued to do once every week. Her more practical side had thought that it wasn't worth the fatigue it would bring, when she had to rise at dawn; another half of that practical side had laughed that notion away, because a chance to glimpse into the future before such a journey was be foolish to pass up, in exchange for an hour of sleep.

When she mentioned this conflict, Rowan laughed in agreement.

"There have been many moments when I've asked myself the same thing, and come to the same answer," he said understandingly, handing over the medallion with an eagerness that made Star wonder briefly.

It's rare to see him share its power so happily, even with me, she thought to herself. Perhaps he hopes that it will show me something that it's been hiding from him. Perhaps he hopes it will urge me now, of all times, to give up my dreams of travel and stay here, with him. Well, if it does, I'm just going to have to ignore it, and face the consequences later. I've come much too far to just give up now.

She gripped the medallion loosely in her hand, focusing on its cool, solid smoothness against her skin. Her father hadn't even begun to burn the sticks of incense he had brought—she could already feel its energy sinking into her, calling her mind and spirit to wake and be clear.

It had something very important to tell her. Something it was almost excited to tell her. All she had to do was ask the right question.

This is about Maris, for sure, she thought to it. Something is going to happen to me while I'm there. So tell me, small friend, what is going to happen while I'm away?

The words began to boil deep within her, as they always did; and she surrendered herself to their power without even thinking of fighting against it. She just let them flow through her, up from her heart and out of her mouth into the fresh air, where they would be free.

 _A gleaming pen for writer's hand_

 _Awaits to shape our changing land._

The power faded as quickly as it had risen, and its sudden absence left her feeling drained and slightly empty. The prophecy had certainly been one of importance, it had left her more tired than it normally did. She felt herself falling backward, and braced her arms on the ground to catch herself. She also felt her father's steadying hands on her shoulders, keeping her upright.

"It comes more and more naturally to you every week," he commented, sounding far away in her daze. "The sigil certainly seems to like you, Star. Many months had passed before it was so comfortable with me."

"It already knows me, because it already knows you," she suggested drowsily, not bothering to bite back a yawn. He smiled down at her and pulled her close.

"Well spoken, my small Star," he agreed. "So, it seems you are to find a new pen for your work, while you are in Maris. It must be a special pen, indeed; you already have quite a few of them."

Star smiled vaguely at the thought. Pens were such mundane objects, easily crafted and used; but she had always appreciated how powerful they could be, in the right hand. Without something to write with, her work would be impossible. Without something as simple as a pen, there would be no way to record history, or to communicate with the other peoples of their world.

It was true that she owned several pens, of several different types—most were quill pens that she had made herself, quickly crafted from feathers she had found around the village; she also owned two with sharp metal nibs, which her uncle had made for her. She knew each of her tools as she might of known good friends, for they occupied most of her time, and had been through all her adventures so far with her. She couldn't wait to discover her newest friend, awaiting her on the coast. A friend who would help her shape and change the world.

Yet it felt like the sigil had still been holding something back. That prophecy had felt so full of anticipation, as if it had been foretelling a storm by foretelling something that could mean anything. Star knew from the past that the sigil often acted this way. This was its way of being alive and present in the lives of those who controlled it, to be an active part of their lives instead of just an object of power to be used. The sigil had posed an unspoken challenge to her, by remaining on her mind for long hours after she had used it.

There was clearly so much more to that prophecy than it had seemed, and the sigil had done this on purpose. There was something it meant for her to find for herself, on her own, in her own way.

She sensed, for some reason, that her normally helpful and supportive parents would be of little use in finding this end. So, instead of asking them more about it, she chose to venture off on her own for a while to the far corner of the orchard—to seek the help of someone who wouldn't try to shelter her, and give her the hard, blunt truths she was desperate to find.

Sheba was as much a part of Star's life as any member of her family; she had called the weathered old woman her granny for as long as she could remember, and the ancient Titan had always agreed that it was more than acceptable if she wanted to do so. Unlike the other children of Rin, who knew her as a witch, Star knew her as a friend and teacher, as her father had come to. The woman was such a familiar sight that she had never meant fear or spite to her. If Sheba meant anything to her, it was advice, healing, and deep, vast knowledge.

It was commonly agreed that Sheba was greatly changed, since Rowan had become such a permanent fixture in her life. For the first time in her long and lonely life, she had found a companion who truly understood her—an apprentice, and a friend. She had become, dare the people think it, almost pleasant to deal with. Her coldness had warmed, and her sharpness had softened, though neither had completely left her; it was part of who she really was, and could never be changed.

And whenever Star came to her with questions that her mother and father were leery about answering, a chance to challenge authority and bend the rules was always welcome to her. Sheba liked to chuckle to herself about a time when she had been younger and less cautious, and silently rebellious. The Earth sigil had rewarded her behavior by closing off much of its power to her, in her youth; because of his true honesty and willingness to bend to it, Rowan had already accomplished more with it than she ever had.

"Your father could move the mountain itself, should he wish it," she had said once. "I dare say, he has more power in one finger than I've ever had in my whole body before…" Then, regaining some of her old bitterness, she had added, "Feh, the boy really does believe the tales they spin about him. Foolish boy!"

For some strange reason of her own, Sheba could never resist a chance to put her apprentice back in his place. And in many instances, this stubbornness had worked in Star's favor. Whenever her father insisted that she had worked hard enough for one day, Sheba always insisted that she work a little harder. Whenever he withheld knowledge for her own good, Sheba readily supplied it when asked. Whenever he hesitated, Sheba presented a clever challenge.

They had very different ideas of how to help Star reach her goals, and her full potential. Both ideas had their advantages, as well as their drawbacks; and she knew that she needed both, with all their ups and downs, if she was ever going to find her way in life.

Today was one of those days when it was clear that she needed to take from them equally. Her father had done what he could, for the moment. Now it was Sheba's turn. And as Star made her way through the trees, she had a creeping suspicion that her granny was already expecting her.

She entered the clearing at the corner of the orchard to find it lazily guarded by another familiar sight. The enormous scaly creature called Unos milled in the clearing, grazing on the pale green grass that grew there, not expecting company at all. When Star came into the clearing, the grach raised her mottled head and hissed happily to see the girl. She abandoned her grazing and plodded right up to Star, butting her head against the girl's chest in greeting, and snuffling her all over, looking for the treat she had come to expect.

"I know, I know, Unos," Star laughed, gently pushing the creature off to dig in her dress pocket. "I haven't forgotten you."

She pulled a speckled green apple out of her pocket and held it out, letting Unos take it from her hand and devour it in one bite. As Unos enjoyed her treat, Star lovingly stroked the beast's long, scaly neck. How different life would have been for everyone, without the help of this strange and unexpected creature.

 _Another treasure of the east, which we now call our own,_ she thought. _First there was my mother; then, there was my aunt and uncle, and Unos with them; and now, we are even using some of their technology for ourselves. In small ways, it's almost as if the people of Rin are conquering the Zebak, degree by degree, for a change._

Leaving a final pat on Unos' shoulder, Star crossed the clearing and approached the hut that Sheba called home. Before she had quite reached it, the door swung open, and Sheba herself appeared on the other side.

"Welcome, dear little Mahna," she greeted in her creaky, ominous voice. "You've kept me waiting, while you played with my companion."

Star smiled down at her in answer, unapologetic. Sheba smiled slyly back, pleased with her sassiness, and waved her into the dimly lit hut.

"You knew I would be waiting for you, I think," Sheba commented, lowering herself back into her chair by the fire.

"Well, you always do," Star pointed out, sitting on the floor in front of her.

"Have you been playing with the sigil again? Tell me of your practice, child."

"It goes well enough. Nothing particularly interesting has happened so far."

"Ah," Sheba sighed, leaning forward. "Not until today, I suspect. Something is troubling you. Tell your dear old granny what is on your mind."

Star paused for only a second, searching for the right words before she explained herself. Sheba was rarely unpleasant to her, but she had never been a patient woman.

"I practiced with the sigil this afternoon, and it gave me a prophecy."

"Is that all?"

"No. This time, it felt like a _real_ prophecy. It was simple enough, but there must be something more to it. If there weren't, it wouldn't still be so heavy on my mind."

"I see. Tell me the words."

Star repeated the words she had been given. To anyone else, it would have sounded like a pointless rhyme with only a few meanings, not hiding anything at all. But Sheba listened intently, and made a very serious face as she considered them for herself.

"Hm…"

"Is something wrong?"

"I believe it is the words of change that trouble you so. They are very uncertain. They seem to speak of a time which looms on the horizon, too far off to see clearly, but speeding to overtake us all. Times of great change have come and gone recently, that is true; another such time will not be welcomed warmly."

Star bowed her head thoughtfully, and a thrill of fear went down her spine.

"I am to play some part in it, this time."

"Without a doubt! You didn't think to be left out of it so easily, did you?"

"Well, no… But now that it's almost here, I'm not sure if I'm… Ready for it."

Sheba laughed sharply and sat back in her chair. "Your father was never prepared for such things. In my mind, it was half the reason for his success. Great plans and preparations are all good and well; but when the unexpected strikes, and all those plans are laid to waste, that it the true test of a person's power. Your father did well, with what little he was given. And how much more have we given you, girl? Stop being so anxious. It is foolish."

Star looked up to meet the old woman's gaze, and smirked.

"Papa was always anxious. And you said, yourself, that he was the only one with any sense."

Sheba was silent for a moment, and then she suddenly began to cackle.

"Ah, bitter logic," she croaked, clapping her hands. "Well played, young Mahna, well played, indeed! At last, someone has learned something from the past."

Star grinned triumphantly.

"It is true enough," Sheba agreed, calming herself, "a healthy fear of the unknown keeps a person humble and alert. It isn't a trait these fools know to respect, even though it has saved them time and again. But caution and anxiety are two very different things, my dear. Be cautious, girl—be humble and alert, for such things are virtuous. Anxiety will cause you to second-guess yourself, to doubt yourself, to fret pointlessly over what you cannot change. Anxiety is a crime which you cannot afford to commit. Not with the future as close as it is."

Comforted by her words, Star nodded wordlessly.

"Your father is anxious," Sheba continued slowly. "Skinny little rabbit has always been anxious, no matter how famous or powerful he has been. And with you due to leave in the morning, he is more anxious than ever before. I will worry over him on another day, though."

"Why is that, if anxiety is such a crime?"

"It is a crime for _you_ , because your time is very close at hand. As for your father…"

The woman was silent for a long moment, staring deep into her fire, as if seeking an answer there. At last, she sighed deeply and settled deeper into her chair.

"Your father's time has only just begun, at the same time as it has ended. He has played his part in our history, and has found his true destiny. But you, Mahna…"

"The time for me to play my own part is nearly here," Star finished.

"We all have our own parts to play. Some parts are merely less interesting than others. The part your father was born to play turned out to be quite interesting, indeed. And so, it seems, will yours."

"Do you know what it will be?"

"Of course not. I am a Titan, not a mystic. However, if it is answers you seek, you know how to find them for yourself."

Star shook her head. "Papa would never let me ask something so complicated of the sigil. He would be far too afraid to let me try."

Sheba grinned with what looked like mischief. "Well, then, you shall simply have to be smarter than he is."

"That could be difficult."

"It isn't a great feat, if you consider it. Never in my life have I met such a brilliant idiot as your father. If you are really desperate for answers, you will find a way."

Star lowered her head again, not sure what else there was to say. She certainly wasn't about to steal the Earth sigil, even for only a few minutes, for a mere peek at the future. All the same, knowing that her destiny was so close that it was nearly hunting her was frightening. She suddenly couldn't help but feel a little anxious. There was no way she would be prepared for it, when it found her.

"You are still fretting," Sheba snapped suddenly. "Stop that at once! You have a long journey ahead of you, and you need your wits about you. Think to the morning. Be excited instead of fearful. Worrying will do you no good, now will it?"

"No, I guess it won't," Star agreed, climbing to her feet. "Thank you for listening, granny."

"You have thoughts worth listening to, girl. It is refreshing to me. I shall miss sharing these moments with you, while you are away."

"I'll miss them, too."

Sheba's face turned thoughtful again, and she glanced toward the door. "Your parents have begun to wonder where you've gone. Best to return home, and rest as much as you can before your journey. Your practice has left you tired and uneasy; let a long and peaceful sleep ease your mind."

"I shall rest as peacefully as I can, I promise."

Satisfied, Sheba nodded and waved her hand toward the door. "Good fortune, and safe travels, then. We shall meet again, upon your return. I expect to hear fantastic tales from you, Mahna."

"They will be the most fantastic," Star grinned back. "I promise that, too."

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 _Afterthoughts…_

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I'm guessing you're all wondering why Sheba calls her Mahna, instead of Star. I'm also guessing that you're all curious about will happen in Maris. All these question and others are addressed in the following chapter, so hang tight. ;D


	6. Chapter 6: To The Coast

Being the immovable rock that she is, Asha is a constant source of humor for me. She's so darned serious—she leaves herself open for it. XD

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 _Chapter 6: To The Coast_

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Though the people knew to expect an envoy of traders from the west, the town of Maris was as it was on any day. Its fish-like people went about their usual business—a buying and selling wares, mending nets on the shore, sailing their boats and catching fish, or perhaps just sailing for their pleasure. It was a fine day for sailing; the autumn air was crisp and clear, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

The only thing that particularly stood out was three figures waiting in the square—one in blue, one in green, and one in shimmering silver—waiting to welcome the traders from Rin, when they finally arrived.

Seaborn of Fisk waited with a grin on his face, excited to see his friends again. Asha of Umbray was unusually antsy, shifting impatiently from one foot to the other. Perlain of Pandellis radiated a similar impatience, though he refused to show it.

Every autumn since the last and most interesting Choosing that Maris had ever seen, the three of them had volunteered before anyone else to greet Rin's trading parties. Honestly, no one was surprised, and no one would have had it any other way. And this year, they had more reason to await the trading party than any year before.

Finding out after the fact that their Rowan had been married had been annoying to them all; and Perlain had been beyond furious to have missed it, because Zeel had been the bride. The news that they had been blessed with a child had been too much for any of them to bear, and so they had made the trip to see their friend when it had happened. It was the only time they had ever seen Star—she had only just been born, barely a week old yet.

That had happened 13 years ago. And now they understood that Star was traveling with the trading party, due to arrive that afternoon. It was enough to drive even Asha to distraction. The waiting was like torture to all three of them.

Hearing the noise and commotion of the wagons finally trundling through town only made the torture more painful. Asha wrapped her arms around herself, trying desperately to contain herself. Seeing this, Seaborn glanced at her in amusement.

"I've never seen you so excited in all my life, my friend," he commented lightly.

"Are you not?" the silver-clad woman demanded incredulously.

"Quite the opposite. In fact, I may jump out of my skin."

Beside them, Perlain snorted. " _You_ may jump out of your skin? Consider how this is for me."

Slightly humbled, his companions ceased their bickering and focused their attention back on the sounds of wagon wheels approaching the square.

The people in the square quickly cleared the way as the first of the wagons rolled through the street, pulled by a shaggy gray beast whose name they didn't know, driven by a lone young woman with raven hair whose name they certainly did know. It was Alanis of the orchard, leading the party in her father's place, smiling brightly and looking very pleased with herself.

"Whoa, Max, ease up," she commanded, calling the beast by its name. Understanding, the beast slowed, and the wagon came to a stop. Behind them, other riders were calling out similar commands, and wagons were halting all over the square. Paying them little more mind, Alanis jumped down from her own wagon and marched up to meet her hosts.

"It never fails to amaze me, how your people have tamed such enormous creatures," Perlain commented politely, walking to meet her.

"They're pretty tame to begin with," Alanis answered, shaking his hand warmly. "Anyway, it's the least we can do to be kind to them—we'd all be dead without them."

Behind her, Max made an annoyed rumbling sound. It made the three Maris slightly nervous; but Alanis reached her hand out to pat his nose reassuringly. The rumbling ceased, and the bukshah looked amazingly content for a dumb beast.

"The diva needs his attention," she explained casually. "He hates to be left out of anything." Returning her focus on her friends, she grinned. "It's good to see you again, Perlain. Seaborn, Asha, you're both looking well."

"As are you Alanis," Asha agreed right away, grateful for a distraction from her impatience. "You are alone this year, we see. Where is your father?"

"At home, taking care of business of his own. He's busy this year, and so he decided to send me by myself."

Of course, they already knew this; the Keeper had already told Perlain, who had told his companions. They were excited for the girl, at the same time as they were slightly saddened to be missing John. They all had a feeling that young, adventurous Alanis wouldn't be as good at keeping peace among her people as her father was.

She somehow noted that disappointment, but misunderstood it, because she laughed softly and said, "It's not me you were looking forward to seeing, I think."

Perlain tried hard to keep his face straight. "We did understand that a certain young person would be with you this year," he answered vaguely.

Alanis planted her hands on her hips and regarded him with a smirk. "You knew my little cousin was coming, then?"

This time, he allowed the barest of smiles to tug at his lips. "As the Keeper's emissary, there is little I do not know."

"Well, Star is behind me, somewhere," Alanis explained, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. "She is under my aunt and uncle's care; so if you find them, you will certainly find her. And they are likely to find you, first."

"That settles it, then," Seaborn remarked proudly. "She will be staying with my family. Believe me, the three of us had fought rather bitterly over who would be hosting the child."

Asha crossed her arms. "I don't see how anything is settled."

"Allun's family always stays with mine, this you know," he explained. "And if Star is staying with them, then she must stay with me. It simply follows logic, which I am sure you, of all people, will appreciate."

Asha glared at him, looking on the verge of pouting like a child. Her glassy eyes darted away though, caught by a flash of brown and red as it jumped down from a nearby wagon. The brown was the hair and dark skin of a girl; the red was her dress, ruffled slightly by the breeze. The girl paused for just a second, her sky-colored eyes taking in everything around her in wonder and amazement. Her face broke into a brilliant, instantly recognizable smile, and she began to laugh joyously.

The girl's laughter caught the immediate attention of everyone who was near enough to hear. Her own people mostly just shook their heads and rolled their eyes at the obvious show of feeling. The three Maris could only stand still and stare, thunderstruck.

"Maris!" she cheered, spinning in the street. "I'm finally here! I can't believe it, I'm _really_ here!"

Asha touched a webbed hand to her heart. "By Orin," she breathed, "there she is."

"And how like her father she is," Seaborn added, equally awed. "I haven't seen that smile in many years, but I would know it anywhere."

Perlain allowed his smile to grow nearly to a grin. "And how like her mother, as well."

"Yes, she's a marvel, for sure," Alanis agreed, smiling affectionately after her cousin. "She's been looking forward to this day as much as you have. She's dying to meet you all."

Still laughing to herself, Star stopped spinning and pushed her long hair out of her face. All at once, she was looking directly at them, and the look of wonder returned, replacing her laughter with a stunned sort of silence.

They were also stunned to silence. All three of them had been prepared to say so many things to her; and now that she was standing mere yards away from them, they couldn't think of anything in particular to say.

She suddenly broke into a run, crossing the distance between them in a flash to throw her arms around Seaborn and Asha. Asha tensed up, unprepared for the uninvited embrace; Seaborn laughed softly and returned it at once.

"It's good to see you, too, Star," he said at last. To him, it was like a long awaited reunion with an old friend.

"My grandmother is alive because of you," she said humbly, tightening her arms around them. "I can't thank you enough."

Moved by her words, Asha finally relaxed and hugged her back. "All in a day's work, child, all in a day's work."

Star stood back a bit to grin at them in thanks and pure joy. She really was a marvel—she had never really met them, or even seen a Maris before, but it was clear that she cared deeply for them anyway. Seeing them for the first time, she hadn't been puzzled by their customs or appearance, both so different from her own. She had greeted them with love, as if they were just an extension of her family.

Because, they supposed, they were.

After a moment, Star released them and turned to face Perlain squarely. With an unusual warmth in his eyes, he opened his arms to her in welcome, and in preparation for a hug that was inevitable.

"You are taller than I remember, Star, and more than I had perhaps expected."

With a little less force than before, and with a few tears in her eyes, she stepped forward and delivered the hug he had known was coming. Indeed, she stood eye to eye with him, and would surely stand above him in another year. That was certainly a trait she had inherited from her very tall mother, and it made him smile inside himself. She was the best of both her parents. Perhaps for a short time, it would be as if they were really with him again.

Though he hoped with all his heart that there were no adventures in store for her here.

Alanis had waited in patient silence, but finally cleared her throat, uncomfortable with all the feelings flying around her. She was very like her own father, in that way.

"There will be more time for this later, Star," she said, smiling in spite of her discomfort. "Right now, we have unpacking to do, and there will be mutiny if you run off without helping."

Star shot her a teasing look. "Forley's probably already run off by now."

"And think of the trouble he'll be in later. He's a terrible example to follow."

At the boy's name, Seaborn looked up to scan the crowd in the square. "I should find my daughter," he said, sounding slightly nervous. "The thought of those two running around unsupervised worries me… I can expect to see all of you at my home this evening, can't I?"

"Of course you can," Alanis agreed. "When has it ever been different? By all means, find Iris and stop her from dragging Forley into trouble. She's always certain to try and succeed."

The man bowed in salutation, and somewhat reluctantly stalked away into the crowd, calling his daughter's name. His companions watched him go with a strange feeling of contentment. Forley was running off, looking for trouble; Star was greeting them as old friends, as if she had known them all her life; Alanis was standing stoically nearby, happy to just enjoy watching them. It was suddenly as if nothing had changed, and everything in the world was as it ought to be.

Asha stepped forward and put her arm around Star's shoulder, guiding her back to the wagon she had appeared from. "Let us get you to unpacking, then," she said seriously. "And let us have it done quickly. There is someone else who wants to see you."

"Who?" the girl asked, her eyes alight with curiosity and excitement.

To this, Perlain chuckled softly. "Have you not guessed? He would have greeted you personally, if he were able; but you know the rules as well as we do."

Somehow, Star's eyes grew even wider as they filled with understanding. "You mean…?"

"Yes, I do. Indeed, let us have your work done quickly. It hardly does to have the Keeper waiting on someone as important as you."

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An hour later, Star found herself walking through the streets of Maris, guided by Perlain toward the Cavern of the Crystal. There was still some work left to be done, but she had been dismissed early for this errand. The only thing she had taken with her was the Book, safe in her shoulder bag, as always; Perlain hadn't mentioned it, but she got an immediate feeling that the Keeper would want to see it.

"There are many things he wishes to discuss with you," her guide commented as they walked, "but he has promised to be brief. He understands from your famous father that you have things of your own to see to, while you are here."

"That is certainly true," she agreed. "On that note, which way is the library from here?"

Perlain stopped and pointed off to his right. "That way, child. You will find it rather hard to miss from anywhere, as it is the tallest building in Maris. I trust you can see it from here?"

Star followed his gaze, and found that he was absolutely right. The details of the structure were hard to make out from the distance, but its domed roof loomed over all the other buildings around it. A surge of pure instinct came over her, tempting her to dart off toward it without a backward glance.

"I can see it. Why are there no other buildings so tall?"

"Because of practicality," Perlain answered simply, beginning to walk again and prompting her to follow. "Anything built taller than the library could easily be destroyed by the hurricanes that often batter our shores in the summertime. This is also the reason why our homes are domed, rather than built straight up and down like yours."

"I've heard of this. Instead of slamming against straight walls and blowing them over, the strong winds blow right over them. The weight of the structure is also more evenly dispersed, to better withstand the force of the gales."

Perlain shot her an amused smile. "Very good, Star. You have been taught well, I see."

She smiled back. "Papa insisted on it. And the ingenuity fascinates my uncle to no end, as well."

"Yes, I remember," Perlain agreed, sounding like he was suppressing a groan of patient annoyance. "Whenever Norriss is here, there is little else he wants to talk about. I notice that he is missing from the trading party, this year—which is of particular frustration to me, as I had hoped he might repair some things around my house. Where is he?"

Star shrugged. "He hasn't been well; none of them have been, actually. Shaaran caught a cold weeks ago, and still hasn't recovered fully from it. Bronden and Norris had been fine until last week, when they finally caught it from her. They had all planned before to come with us, but now they're all sick and in no state to travel. It happened quite suddenly. It's very strange."

"Hm. Strange, indeed."

"Alanis had promised to try and do some trading for them; but she isn't as knowledgeable as they are, and they are nervous about her efforts. They had been looking forward to the trip, if only to see the looks on your faces when I arrived. They were disappointed to have to stay behind this year."

Perlain was silent, perhaps sharing Star's feelings about it. To anyone else, it would have seemed an unfortunate coincidence. But with this set of infamously destined people, there were rarely coincidences or accidents. To Star, the sudden onslaught of illness at the carpentry felt like a trick of fate. Shaaran was of delicate health, and it wasn't entirely surprising that she should be sick for so long; but Norriss and Bronden were almost never sick. The fact that they had all fallen so ill, now of all times, seemed almost unnatural.

Their absence made Star feel slightly exposed, with less standing between her and the unexpected. What if Fate had spared them something terrible, but left her to face it without their support?

She shook her head, trying to push the idea from her mind. Even if there was danger waiting for her around the bend, she would be far from alone in facing it. Aside from her family, her father's friends would never abandon her in a moment of need. They hadn't said so, but they didn't need to. She knew it was true, all the same.

Perhaps the Keeper knew something about it, and perhaps he would give her an answer if she asked for it. Hoping this was so, she resolved not to worry until there was a reason for it.

 _Anxiety is a crime I am not allowed,_ she reminded herself. _I must remember that. Whatever is destined to happen, I must not be anxious or terrified. Cautious, perhaps, but not anxious. At any rate, Sheba will surely know from afar if I'm worrying, and she will scold me for it when I get home. And that would be a shame, after everything I will have done here._

They walked the rest of the way in silence, and Star took the time to observe everything around her. There was no way she could have found her way back to Seaborn's house without help, because everything looked remarkably alike to her. She didn't know these streets like she knew Rin; but she did know that a Maris would be similarly lost there for the same reason, and that it would be wrong to complain. In time, she knew that the houses would stop looking so alike in her eyes, and she would be able to find her way on her own.

That was an exciting idea.

The Cavern of the Crystal had been described to her many times, and she had thought she would be prepared to see it for herself. The actual sight of it filled her with an awe that she hadn't braced herself for. Its face had been carved from the very rock that surrounded it, the stone polished smooth and gleaming over centuries of wind and sea spray. Fire blazed from the curved platform above it, signifying to all that the Keeper was alive and strong below; the flame would burn lower and weaker as his life slowly waned, and would vanish entirely when his life finally went out—only to flare back to life when a new Keeper was appointed, by one of her own father's descendants.

Hovering in the crashing waves, not terribly far from shore, the forbidding island of the Choosing loomed silent and ominous, devoid of life.

 _I must remember this view for when I write my final draft,_ Star thought to herself, drinking the sight in as deeply as she could as she was hurried toward the cavern. _Oh, it is nothing like I had imagined! And nothing like what I had written before._

Perlain opened the doors to the cavern with a familiarity that no other Maris would have dreamed of. He was the Keeper's emissary, his messenger and only tie to the world outside, and so spent more time here than anyone else. To enter the Cavern of the Crystal was a rare honor, reserved only for moments of true need or importance; but Perlain did so at least once a week. To him, it was a great privilege, but one he was used to. Entering the cavern meant no fear to him.

He stepped aside, formally letting Star enter first, because she was an expected guest. She hesitated slightly. The Keeper was one of the Titans, her father's brother in magic. All at once, she was very nervous to face him.

 _Be not afraid, small Star. Come to me. I have been waiting for you._

That split second of hesitation had been felt, deep below her. The Keeper had spoken directly into her mind, with a voice that was warm and welcoming, colored by an almost overwhelming sense of anticipation. Still nervous, in spite of everything, Star took a deep breath and stepped into the dimly lit cavern.

She knew quite well what to expect, from the tales alone. The room she had entered was empty, say for candles burning in fixtures on the floor. The only other thing there was to see was a hole in the floor, with a staircase that led downwards into the Keeper's sanctum.

 _Of course, you know I am waiting at the bottom of those stairs. Please, make haste. Another second's delay will cause me to expire before my time._

There was an easy, gentle laughter in the voice this time. Even though he was now the Keeper, it was plain that young Doss of Pandellis had changed very little in the last 19 years. Feeling and knowing this put much of Star's nervousness to rest, and she started down the stairs with renewed excitement.

 _Is it as they've said?_ She asked him in her mind, picturing the scene her father had described so many times. _The pattering waterfall, the rainbows, the—_

 _Yes, yes. All is as he has promised. Come and see for yourself._

Pale, eerie light was gathering as she descended the stairs. She half expected to feel the Crystal's power pulling her forward on a tide she couldn't see, as it had done to her father on his first trip to this place. But her own energy and curiosity was enough to propel her forward. If the Crystal was calling her forward, she hardly noticed.

She reached the bottom of the stairs, and found herself staring into a picture she had often tried to imagine before. A web of light flickered around her in green, blue, silver, and all the other colors of the rainbow, as if she were standing under water. The light flared softly white just before her like a halo, its source obscured by a veil of softly pattering water from above.

 _Ah. At last, I see you as you are. You burn as brightly as your mother. Please, step into the light, and see me as I am._

Bracing herself for the certain chill of the watery veil, she stepped through the veil. The sudden shock of cold chilled her through, and icy salt water streamed over her head and into her eyes. She gasped in surprise, blinking and rubbing the salt from her eyes, shaking the drops from her hair. Slightly disoriented, she looked up.

And there he was, in all his magnificence. The Keeper stood patiently before her, in robes which seemed white, but flickered with rainbow light. The same light shone all around them on the walls, in a never ending dance of life and utter, mysterious beauty. He had waited for her with a grand smile, and a recognizable, calm gentleness in his face. The wonderful Crystal, held in a loving, protective embrace, shone like white fire.

"Welcome, at last, Star of Rin," he said out loud. "I hope it goes without saying, that I am greatly pleased to finally meet you."

The words were spoken without the pretense that normally surrounded his business. They weren't the words of memorized, ceremonial greeting, as should have been expected by any other guest. The words had come directly from the man's own heart. A heart which was open and full of love for all things. A heart which was very like Rowan's. He must have known Star very well, because he shared an unusual link with her father, and knew everything about his life in great detail; but it was never the same as knowing her in person.

Star was completely stunned by the reality of what she had tried so hard to capture on a blank page. She had been very close to capturing the truth, but she felt like she had still fallen quite short. And she had no words of her own, no idea what to say to the powerful, magical being before her. At a loss, she bowed humbly and tried to think of something to say. Something formal, something planned, that would give her a place to start from.

"Speak from your heart, then," the Keeper suggested lightly. "You will find words there."

He had read her mind. She had known all along that he could, but had forgotten. Even though he was obviously a friend and meant her no harm, it felt like an invasion. She could feel her cheeks beginning to burn with embarrassment.

She didn't dare look up to face him again; but she felt his gaze upon her, and heard him laugh.

"There is little need for formalities here, young one," he assured her. "Your father has cared little for them, in his time. And I sense that you are more like him than just your face."

Finally, she dared to peek up at him, and a bit of her usual sassiness returned.

"I must assume so, for I hear it all the time," she answered.

To this, the Keeper laughed more heartily than before. He reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder, guiding her into further into the rainbow cavern.

"There were many days, when I was younger, that I wished for such a sharp tongue to defend myself with," he commented casually, being shockingly candid and personal with her. "I have little need for that, now. The ability to enter minds at will is startling enough, it seems."

Star was amazed at how easygoing the man really was. She had heard stories of it from her father, and also from Mithren; they said that their brother was almost alarmingly normal in all that he did. He saw no reason why his station should separate him so greatly from the people he was sworn to care for. In the past, the Keepers had been overly formal, overly bound to ceremony, deeply set in old ways. But Doss had been different, and that was why he had been chosen. That was why he was now called Keeper.

Star knew this very well, but seeing it so closely was startling. She hadn't been sure what expect with her father's most intimate friend, but she was sure it wasn't this. As with her hosts, it was as if she were being greeted by someone who had known her all her life.

And, really, he _had_ known her all her life. He had been present in her father's mind when she had been born, and all through her growing up. For someone who had never seen her in person, she supposed that he knew her frighteningly well.

"It is startling," she stammered at last, willing herself to relax. "I should have expected it sooner."

"You have many things on your mind," he answered. "I will certainly allow it. Your mother and father are well aware by now that you have arrived safely, and that you are here, now, with me. Does this help?"

"Oh… Yes, it does," she agreed. Far away in Rin, she knew that her parents had been worrying over her since she had left.

The Keeper shook his head slightly. "Your father worries needlessly, in my opinion. I believe you have things well in hand, whatever his doubts. Please, sit down, and talk with me a while."

He gestured to a couch against the far wall, to which he had guided her, and noticed when she shivered with revulsion.

"It is not the same couch you have written of, where your grandmother lay dying. I made sure of it, as I knew it would pain you. Please, sit down."

The Keeper had thought of everything, as he would have, of course. Not wanting to make him repeat himself again, she sat down at once, and he settled himself beside her.

"As you know, there are many things I want to speak with you about; but, as you also know, I have promised to be brief. Let me begin by saying, I know what you have brought here with you. A thing of great power, in its yet imperfect form. Let me see it, if you please."

Star felt pride swell in her heart, as she took the Book from her bag and handed it over. Compared to the Crystal, it seemed like a mundane and useless trifle. It didn't carry the power to summon storms, or looking to people's minds. But the Keeper took it and flipped it open to a random page near the beginning, his webbed fingers caressing the pages with great reverence.

"Ah, yes. _All meet in the dragon's lair_ ," he said softly. "And how true, it is. The heart and soul and energy you have poured into this book…. I can feel its power, as surely as I feel the power of the Crystal. You have forged a mighty tome, indeed, Star."

If it had been anyone else, the compliment would have filled her ego to bursting. From the Keeper, it inspired only humility.

"Thank you," she mumbled, again at a loss for proper words.

He glanced at her, amused by her shyness. "The Crystal allows me to shape my own world, in my own way. My people need that much power to themselves; without it, they would destroy one another. It is a marvelous gift, to be sure. But the gift you have has the power to shape everyone's world. These tales are important to us all, and will spare us much grief in the future. You have an excellent talent, Star. You have every right to be proud of what you have done."

When Star maintained her humble silence, he cleared his throat and continued flipping through the Book with relish.

"Which brings me to the next thing I wished to discuss with you," he said, almost absentmindedly. "You were given a prophecy just before you left Rin. Your father told me so, and your adopted uncle as well. Remind me again, what was it?"

Star knew that he knew the prophecy perfectly well. He just wanted to hear it from her own mouth. At the very least, it would break her silence and possibly begin an actual conversation. It was clear that he was dying to have one with her, and it was a topic she could discuss easily.

" _A gleaming pen for writer's hand_

 _Awaits to shape our changing land."_

"Yes, that is the one," he agreed, looking up from the book. "You may not have known this, but Rowan is concerned over what this may mean. The thought of you having to shape a changing land troubles him greatly."

Perhaps it was the fact that he had called his brother by name for the first time that startled Star as much as it did. Alanis did so all the time, and it had never bothered her then. This time, though, it seemed like a much bigger deal than before.

"Why does it trouble him?" she asked, a little bolder than before. "I assumed that it meant I was to perhaps purchase a new pen while I was here. The pen with which I would write the final draft of the Book, which will certainly change our world."

The Keeper smiled knowingly at her. "Never assume anything, young Star. It makes an ass of you and me, both."

Star slapped a hand over her mouth to cover her smirk, and to contain a sudden burst of laughter at the Keeper's clever but coarse wordplay. Indeed, what was the word _assume_ , but ASS, U, and ME?

"Laugh away, child," he insisted, chuckling to himself. "It is funny. The Maris are not entirely without their humor after all. My good friend Perlain has gotten the best of your clever uncle Allun many times in the past, as you have written, yourself. And so much time exposed to the mind of a Traveler like Mithren leaves a mark; he is a good brother, but he has a sharp humor."

"It seems disrespectful," she giggled, "so speak of them so."

"Ah, but here, we are alone. Perlain even waits on the other side of the veil, leaving us our privacy. Here, we may speak as we wish."

"Papa may know, in any case, through you."

"Yes, he might," the Keeper agreed with a sigh. "Returning to your prophecy, though, have you not considered what deeper meaning may be behind it? Surely you know, there must be more to it."

Star's smile dimmed, and she sobered as memories from the week before flooded her mind. "I have thought of this," she admitted. "I spent much of the trip here considering it. But I don't see what more it can mean, presently. I fear that only time will truly tell."

"Yes, my brothers and I had feared this, too. We care deeply for you, Star; we would never hope for you to fall into danger. We all wish that we could peer into the near future and tell you plainly what is in store for you, but this future has been withheld from us. The Crystal, normally so glad to show me the clear future, has veiled it from me. The winds bring nothing but silence to Mithren, when he asks; and the Earth Sigil guards is secrets well from your father. We know not why, but I can tell you this: it is all for a reason."

Star tipped her head to one side, puzzled. "What kind of purpose is that?" she asked. "What use is it, then, to see the future?"

"Our talismans know our hearts well, by now, and how we would plan for the future," he said with a faint shrug. "Perhaps they have seen a future they wish us not to plan for. Perhaps, instead of interfering, we are to let nature work its wonders on its own, without our help. I like it as little as my brothers do, but I will trust what the Crystal tells me. Never once has trusting its wisdom and knowledge led me astray—not I, nor any other Keeper to be appointed to it."

"That must be very hard."

"It is a grating task, at times, to wait and be patient while the world goes on turning above me. Oh, I would often give anything to leave this cavern and run to the aid of others in need of healing and counsel. Yet the Crystal begs me to patience, to weave its power into the lives of my people, and so all things work for the best. Far better than anything I might have planned on my own. The Crystal will not fail me, any more than the Earth sigil will fail your father."

"So, then… All we need to do is… Wait?"

"I know, it is not an answer you like to hear. We Titans dislike it, also. But I fear there is little else to be done. As you said, Star, only time will tell, now."

Star couldn't help but be disappointed. The uncertainty in the prophecy had been maddening to bear alone on the trip to the coast. She had hoped dearly that she might find a clear answer here. But the future was as uncertain here as it was in the west.

"Be cheered, Star," the Keeper said abruptly, suddenly much brighter and less serious. "You are young, and there is much time for you to fill. And, if I am correct, you intend to spend much of it in our rather impressive library. You will be very at home there, I like to think. Explore it as you wish, and take time to ask questions of our acclaimed scholars. I had thought once to join them in their work as a child, before a different destiny found me. You will appreciate their work, though you will perhaps find it exacting."

"I don't mind," she answered, grinning at him. "I could use a new challenge. It's the most adventure I've ever wanted."

"Excellent. Much to your father's pleasure, it will keep you well out of harm's way."

It seemed to Star as if he was trying to conclude this meeting and send her on her way. That was odd, she had only just arrived and grown used to him; and he had been so eager to see her. Perhaps the Crystal was telling him something…?

He smiled softly. "Only that you are sorely missed among your family," he said suddenly, having looked into her wandering mind yet again. "Iris of Fisk is nowhere to be found, and Forley the baker's son has gone missing, as well. Their fathers are beside themselves with exasperation, and could use a cheerful pair of hands to ease their minds. I would keep you to myself, if I could, but I fear you are needed elsewhere, presently."

Star rolled her eyes at the idea. "And he says that I'm the irresponsible one. Well, if a cheerful pair of hands is what they need, I certainly have one. I can come back later, can't I?"

"Naturally. I will be here, awaiting your pleasure. If you do not mind it, I would like to keep the Book for a time. I want to read it, experience it—not through the mind of someone else, but with my own eyes."

"I understand," she agreed, rising from the couch, and wondering how she should farewell the Keeper. Would he settle for a simple handshake? Would he insist on a hug like his friends had received?

Seeing that she was still feeling awkward and unsure, the Keeper took her hand in his own and gave it a friendly squeeze. "We will speak again soon, young one. For now, run to your family's aid. It will give me time to read the Book as I wish to; and when you return, I will point out improvements, if you would like it."

"I would love it," she answered brightly. "This is only the rough draft, so feel free to mark anything you want. Any help I can get would be wonderful."

"I am glad to have your permission, then. I might have done so, anyway. I must confess, I am very excited about this. Especially about the parts where I am involved."

"I hope I haven't fallen too short, then. I would hate to disappoint."

"I do not think you will, Star. I am confident that you have done well. Your father has always seemed quite pleased with your efforts. He says that your results are excellent."

"Compared to _his_ version of the Book, almost anything is excellent."

"Come now, child, do not be so modest. Take pride in what you've done. You deserve it."

Star gave him a sheepish but thankful smile. He smiled back, his glassy eyes dancing with rainbow light, and he released her hand.

"I shall see you another time," he said, a clear but reluctant dismissal. "Take time to settle down and make yourself comfortable. You shall be here for quite a while."

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 _Afterthoughts…_

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Having lived on the coast all my life, I really appreciate that the Maris build dome-shaped houses. In fact, I sometimes wonder why we don't build more domed building where I live, like the early, wealthy colonials did when they settled here. The science that Star explains about it is true. If I recall correctly, there was a missionary group which took equipment to Haiti following the massive earthquake, specifically to build such homes for them. Aside from better withstanding hurricanes, the shape is better suited to withstand earthquakes—again, because the weight it more evenly dispersed, and the shape holds its own self up instead of collapsing on itself.

It's really rather genius.

I really like to think that all three of the current Titans have become a little cheekier as they have grown up, at least with each other. When one is so special, one has to have a sense of humor about it. And, as the Keeper pointed out, they do get a lot of exposure to Mithren, who has the greatest humor of them all. (He got approximately 2 lines in the entire saga, so I've had to come up with a character for him all by myself. :/)


	7. Chapter 7: The Bear Queen

Ooh, look, more magic and more backstory. Because Star is just as good as Rowan with exposition, when she wants to be. Or when I want her to be. Or whatever.

The Compass is part of my own magic system. If this were a real, Rodda-style publication, there would be a clear picture of it presented here. Alas, Word and ffnet do not allow this, and so I have it described as well as I can. There will possibly be a decent picture of it on DeviantArt soonish. Also, the elemental alignment thing and spirit animals go on to play a prominent role over the rest of the story, so pay attention.

Finally, the story that Star is about to tell is only one of four. The other three will be elaborated on in other books. Part of it is to keep you people reading; part of it is to keep me writing for you.

It is _nothing_ like it was in the thing I had planned before. :P

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 _Chapter 7: The Bear Queen_

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Perlain was also surprised that Star's meeting with the Keeper had ended so soon, but he didn't question it. He also didn't question her, as he led her back to Seaborn's house, where her family was apparently waiting for her. He spoke very little, answering Star's questions as best he could as they walked. From nearly every street, she could still see the library in the near distance, and spent much of the walk resisting the urge to dash away from her guide. The fabled library was so close now, passing it by was almost unbearable.

She was very grateful for his patience and abundance of answers, though, because she had many questions for him. She was especially grateful for it once they reached their destination—as soon as she walked into the house, her two remaining cousins accosted her with questions of their own.

"So, how did it go?"

"What was it like? Was it really like standing underwater?"

"Did he read your mind?"

"Did he let you touch the Crystal?"

"Did he tell you where my silly brother went?"

"Oh, tell us everything! We're dying to hear all about it!"

"Alanis, Leah, give the girl some air," Marlie insisted, shooing them out of her face. "There will be time for that later, but we still have much to do."

"It seems to me that you bring another few boxes of things every year," commented the green-clad woman in the kitchen door, who was hauling a large crate after her. "Do you really intend to have _all_ of this sold in a month?"

"We hope so, Imlay. Times have been better and better in the west, and so we naturally have more to sell here. And your people have just as much to trade for it all. Times have been better for everyone, everywhere."

Imlay smiled a slight, agreeing smile, and went back to hauling the crate into the kitchen. Seeing an obvious place to help, Star went over and began to push while her hostess pulled.

"It's because of the Titans, I think," she explained. "All three of them are strong young men, well suited to their elements; and they all came to their power within the same five years. The land is refreshed by their strength, and their unity. So, of course times have been good. They couldn't possibly be better, right now."

Imlay paused thoughtfully, leaning against the crate to catch her breath. "You must know much of this phenomenon. One of these Titans is your own father."

"I do know a lot about it," Star agreed, continuing to push the box into the room. "I know a lot about magic, in general. Papa has had me studying it since I was old enough to read. He says it's important to understand, because it's part of who I am."

"He believes that long ago, all our people understood it," Alanis added from the doorway. "When we dwelt in the Valley of Gold, a knowledge of magic was far from limited to just the Titan. Even though the people had no magical powers of their own, they still learned it and lived it. It was part of who they all were. Of who we are, today. At least, be believes this was how it was. Most of the records from that time have been lost, and excavating the valley is difficult and dangerous."

"A fascinating idea," Imlay agreed. "So, are you going to just stand there, babbling about the past, or are you going to help us unload this crate? I have no clue what Marlie might have filled it with to make it so heavy."

"That is one of mine, actually," Alanis answered, kneeling to prize the lid off the crate. "It's so heavy because I've filled it with apples. And I pray you don't find it too heavy, because there are five other crates just like it in the wagon."

Imlay looked exhausted just thinking about that. "My people were hardly built for such labor. Your people certainly are, but I cannot imagine how you manage. It seems such a chore."

"Not when you're built for it," Alanis answered teasingly, removing the lid to reveal a pile of speckled red apples. Even though they had spent a week piled in a crate in the back of a wagon, they were perfectly intact. As the lid was removed, their sweet, fruity scent flooded the room.

"Ah, I look forward to feasting on these," Imlay commented, breathing in the sweet smell. "I might have to convince my husband to purchase this whole crate from you. I could put this fruit to excellent use."

"I'd be happy to give you a friendly discount," Alanis agreed. "I will just have to make up a story about why some of that profit is missing. My father misses nothing."

Star helped them unload the apples into a basket that Alanis had brought with her. In the morning, Alanis would take this and her other wares to the Maris market to sell and trade them. Every day thereafter, she would refill the baskets from the crates and ply her trade all over again. Slowly, the sweet fruits in her wagon would disappear, to be replaced with money and other wares. Nearly everyone else in the trading party would be doing the same thing with their own offerings.

The idea of trade and business was thrilling but daunting to Star. Her cousins were all very good at it, because their parents had taught them so well. She, herself, had no head for it. What she had come to trade wasn't tangible, or immediately useful. She had come to deal in knowledge. She would spend all her time working in the library, not the market. She would be surrounded by the silence of books, not the noise of crowds. No doubt, people like Gregory thought that she was wasting her time and theirs, running off to read all day while they worked hard for a month, to gain wealth for their village.

Many people failed to realize just how crucial her own business was. Who else did they suppose would keep their histories in order? How else did they suppose their stories would be preserved? They certainly didn't have the skill or the patience for it. They must have seen her as a burden, an extra body to feed and look after, who wasn't going to contribute anything useful.

 _That stinks like sulfur to my heart,_ she thought bitterly, not quite realizing that a scowl had slipped over her face.

"Star, my young friend," Imlay said pleasantly, "you said a moment ago that you understand your father's magic quite well. Perhaps you will explain more of it later. The Maris are not a curious folk; but, considering that I nearly lost the love of my life to such magic, I find that the business fascinates me more than most. I would love to hear more about it."

The woman had noticed the sour look on her face, and was clearly attempting to distract her from her thoughts. But she was polite as any Maris, and would never have called her out in front of her stoic cousin. Star appreciated that greatly.

"I would love to explain it," she agreed. "And Alanis can help, too. My father is also her older brother, and she knows much of his magic, as well."

"Oh, I don't know nearly as much as Star does," Alanis insisted, almost bashfully. "I've studied only when I wanted to, and only what interested me. But… I suppose I'm quite good with the concept of spirit animals."

Imlay gave the girls a curious look. "Spirit animals?"

"Everyone has a spirit animal," Alanis explained, glad to speak of something she knew. "It's like the shape of your soul, in its natural state. Each animal represents certain strong traits and abilities, which are very present in one's personality. I love animals. I've studied it quite often, and know it quite well."

"Alanis is so good with the study, she can guess a person's spirit animal easily. And she is almost always right. Go on, ask her, Imlay."

"Very well," the woman said. "What is my spirit animal?"

Alanis looked up from her work, sat back on her heels, and considered the woman for a moment. "Well, you are a very diligent homemaker. You love your home, and everything in it. You are also very tidy, and don't like clutter. I notice every year, the piles of boxes and crates upset you."

"That is true," Imlay said tensely. Now that it had been mentioned, there was no reason to hide her discomfort.

"I've had my ideas before what your spirit animal must be. But I am going to say… You must be a spider spirit."

Imlay looked unpleasantly surprised. "A spider? Why, that sounds ominous."

"Not really, when you think of how spiders are. They are tiny creatures, but powerful in their own domain. They spin a new web every day, with patience and care, to keep them in proper order. In magic, spiders are a symbol of diligence, not menace."

"Ah. Well, that makes me feel a little better," Imlay agreed, relieved. "And that does seem quite accurate. And what of you, girls?"

Alanis grinned proudly. "I am a bear spirit, like my father. That is a guardian spirit, known for protecting and counseling the weak. And Star's is a bee, another diligent spirit, who is never happy unless she is working."

"I'm proud of my spirit, too," Star added. "It's very appropriate, don't you think?"

"Yes, very," Imlay agreed. "Oh, how interesting! I do hope you will tell us more this evening. And surely my daughter would love to hear it, too, if she ever comes home."

Alanis groaned impatiently. "If Iris and Forley were here, unpacking wouldn't be taking so long. I can't believe that they do this to us every year. No doubt he's helping her pinch other people's wares for their own entertainment. I've never known a person as mischievous as he is."

"He has to come back," Star pointed out helpfully. "There will be supper here, later. If he doesn't come back he will starve, and so will Iris. I still haven't gotten a chance to meet her…"

"It was wrong of her to run off like that," Imlay agreed. "We had warned her not to, even threatened her with her least favorite punishments. We had wanted very much for you to meet her. She is overly adventurous and prone to causing trouble, but our two families agree that you would like our Iris."

"I can't wait to finally meet her, then," Star answered. "If she's anything at all like Forley… I suppose I shall feel right at home."

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Indeed, as their suddenly large family sat in Seaborn's house for supper, Star felt very at home. Even though she was surrounded by people she barely knew, and the food was very strange, it was like an evening in her own home would have been. The adults were discussing their work, and what their children were up to, and teasingly wondering when Asha was going to find herself a good man. The youngsters were discussing their own small adventures of the day, speaking hopefully of how business would be in the next few days, and putting up with Forley and Iris acting like the clowns they were.

It was the first time Star had tasted real Maris food. She was familiar with their smoked fish and crusty biscuits, because they were always brought back from the trading trips. She was also somewhat familiar with the fish stew Imlay had prepared, because Marlie had brought the recipe back to Rin years ago, and often made it at home.

This time, the meal had been prepared by real Maris hands, and so she tasted the dishes for the first time as they were supposed to be. It was strange to eat a meal that tasted so strongly of fish and the brine of the sea; but all of it was delicious, and she relished every bite.

 _Mum wouldn't care for this,_ she thought. _She has always complained that Maris food is too salty for her taste. And she hates it whenever Marlie makes this stew. She even drenches the biscuits in honey, just so she can stand eating them. But I don't care. I quite like it, and I'm going to miss it when we leave._

"So," Iris said to her with a grin, "Forley says that you are writing a book. Tell me about it."

"It's a collection of my father's adventures, when he was a boy," Star answered.

"Oh, how exciting. Then my father must be in it, somewhere."

"In the third adventure, in the middle of the Book, yes."

"I hope you wrote him well."

"It was difficult, and I tried my very best. As it is, I think I did a pretty good job on the first try. Of course, the final draft will be much better, now that I've met him."

"You must share with us, Star. Oh, I am just dying to see it. We all are you know. I heard Marlie telling Asha and mother about it earlier, and they cannot wait."

Star just smiled back, but said nothing as Iris went on talking about how exciting the Book was. Her hosts had been largely unaware of the Book until just now. She wasn't sure how they would feel when she told them she didn't have it with her, that it was with the Keeper, and that she would wait for him to finish reading it before she asked for it back. The adults probably wouldn't be terribly upset or surprised; but she was sure that Iris would sulk until it was her turn to see it.

So far, Star had decided that she liked Iris well enough. She and Forley were as alike as everyone had claimed, and so she didn't see how she could dislike the older girl. Iris was very enthusiastic and full of energy, and had an adventurous streak that was wild and overwhelming for a Maris. Her father had been a fine candidate to be Keeper of the Crystal; but the task would have suited Iris poorly, and she wouldn't have served her people well at all.

 _She is far too self-centered for the task,_ Star thought. _The Keeper should carry love for all his or her people. Iris loves herself, and her parents, and little else. She isn't stupid, but she isn't wise, either. And, frankly, though we get along, I think she's obnoxious and perhaps a tad spoiled. And why shouldn't she be? She is her father's daughter and only child, like Alanis and I are to our parents. We know a thing or two about being sheltered. All the same, our fathers would never allow us to run wild around town like Iris does. And I don't think she is allowed to do so; my guess is that she simply has too much energy for them to handle, sometimes._

 _That rebelliousness will certainly come back to haunt her, if she isn't careful. The Rinfolk would praise it, but the Maris must find it a pain, and perhaps a bad omen. If she gets herself hurt, she will be fantastically hurt—perhaps so hurt, she will never really recover. Such a thing would break her spirit. And that would be a tragic blessing._

Star suspected that supper usually didn't take so long in this house; but it lasted well into the evening before she began helping her hosts clear dishes from the tables. Out of habit, she and Leah both moved to begin washing the dishes, as they had done every night since they had stood tall enough to do so. However, Imlay hurried them both from the kitchen before they could get started, heartily insisting that it could be left until morning on this occasion. Leah grimaced after the untidy sink, but didn't bother trying to argue.

"I wonder how everyone at home is doing?" Alanis was saying as they rejoined the family. "They must know by now that we've arrived. Rowan will have known for hours, and will have let everyone know."

"They are probably relieved to know it. I suppose that in recent years, after all the excitement, these important journeys must make your people nervous," Seaborn suggested.

"Especially this year, when you come carrying such precious cargo," Asha added, glancing meaningfully at Star. "If I know my small friend, the idea of letting his daughter travel so far from home has been stressful."

To that, Marlie scoffed and rolled her eyes. "You have no idea."

"I imagine that he's having second thoughts about all his worrying," Allun commented. "He and Zeel are probably making quite merry right about now, to have their home to themselves for the first time in 13 years. It's what I would do."

"You care far too much about their business."

"It's in my interest to care. You can never tell with those two. They say they're done with adventures, but I can't help wondering, sometimes."

Star silently shook her head at him. If he should be caring about anyone's business, it was supposed to be hers. Personally, she didn't care what her parents were doing without her. The only interesting thing she supposed they were doing was enjoying an extra glass or two of honey mead every night, or perhaps swearing out loud more often, while she wasn't around to see or hear.

"Star?"

There were so many people gathered that it took her a moment to find the one who had addressed her. She found that it was Perlain, looking at her intently.

"We understand you are well-versed in magic as your father, and that you were to perhaps explain a bit of it."

At the mention of it, the other Maris all turned to watch her just as intently, all of their glassy eyes bright with interest.

"Yes, at last," Iris agreed. "And perhaps you will now share the Book with us."

"I'm afraid the Keeper has the Book right now," Star answered. "I'll have it back in a day or two, when he's done with it. But I can answer any other question you have."

"Why am I not surprised," Seaborn said before his daughter could start whining. "In that case, tell us a bit of this magic of yours."

"Oh… Let me think for a moment. I hardly know where to begin."

"Begin at the beginning, then" Asha suggested.

Star nodded. The solution was as obvious as Asha had made it sound. "Wait a moment," she said, turning to leave the group. "I need to fetch something from my bag, and I'll be right back."

When she returned, she was carrying one of the notebooks she had brought with her. She also found that someone had moved a chair to stand alone before the fireplace, before the whole family. Plainly, she was meant to sit there. She suspected that Alanis was responsible for this.

 _Surely,_ she thought as she sat down, _this is what it really feels like to be Sheba._

"I'm going to start at the very beginning, as Asha said," she explained, thumbing through the pages of her notebook. "And the very beginning is with the compass."

She held the book up in front of her, for all to see the sketch she had found for them. It was a neatly drawn compass rose, its points labeled north, south, east, and west, with the four subpoints for north-east, north-west, south-east, and south-west similarly labeled. Beside each point was also the name of an element— _Air, Earth, Water, Fire_ —and a strange symbol that represented each one. The subpoints had elements and symbols of their own, much smaller and harder to see. On the opposite page were notes on the symbols and their meanings.

"I've drawn the compass many times, but this is the neatest one so far. Each compass point is aligned with its own element, and each element has its own meaning. All of them are connected, and flow through each other in a cycle. The compass shows us all the basic laws of magic in one place—how the elements move, how they react to one another, and how they combine to create."

"I do not think I have seen these symbols before," Perlain said slowly, carefully observing the careful sketch. "What are they?"

"A remnant of a long ago time, when it's said that all people knew one language that united them. That language is lost, today; but the Titans have kept it alive, and use these symbols for many things. The compass is one of those things. Because it's so basic, it's one of the first things they are taught. There is depth and detail to it that takes many years to learn fully, as I have. But in this form, any beginner can see and understand. Here, have a better look."

She handed the notebook to her hostess and watched with pride as the sketch was passed form hand to hand and admired.

"The elements combine at the cross-points," Asha noticed.

"Those are the sub-elements: rock, ice, plant, and lightning. Two energies must combine to create them. But only when the two can flow through each other. Because they are across from each other, Earth and Air can never successfully combine, and neither can Water and Fire. Such combinations represent conflict, a clashing of opposing forces, which create nothing but destruction and chaos. This is why the four are so important. The four make a cycle of harmony; when broken, they can only destroy, or, at best, accomplish little."

Perlain made on odd face. "Somehow, that idea feels familiar. As if I have seen this, or heard of it, somewhere before. I cannot think where, though."

"It should feel familiar," Star agreed, thrilled that he had stumbled over it so easily. "The concept is a big one; but it is the only reason why you returned from the Zebak lands so successfully, let alone alive."

He pinned her with an astounded look, not understanding.

"There were four of you then, remember?" she explained, speaking slowly. "One of you representing each element, all with your own unique gift to offer. And so the four elements were united in harmony, and you were able to accomplish more together than you ever could have on your own."

"Four quarters of a whole," Allun commented thoughtfully. He had heard the explanation many times, and it never failed to amaze him. "Things always happen in fours around here, it seems. I had never thought of it before, but it explains everything."

"I thought your parents and your aunt and uncle made a whole, as well," Iris added. "But they are three people of Rin and one Zebak. It seems quite unbalanced to me."

"That's where elemental alignment comes in," Star continued. "As with spirit animals, everyone is aligned with one of the elements, and so takes on certain characteristics that come with it. Papa is element Earth, and mum is element Fire, naturally; but Norriss is Air, and Shaaran is Water, and so together, they do make a whole. Of course, they had no idea when they were young, and chalked all their success up to dumb luck. In truth, it was all a part of destiny, and the magic that gives it shape and life."

"What about before, on your father's first adventure on the mountain?" Seaborn asked. "There were four then, but the whole fell apart."

"That is true," Star agreed. "Once the seven became four, they traveled much farther much faster, and accomplished much more. However, they were never a whole. Papa was Earth, and John was Fire, but there were _two_ Air elements, then," she explained, pointing two fingers at her godparents.

"They were the two of us," Marlie said slowly, obviously uncomfortable to be remembering the story. "We understand now, though, that Jiller is element Water, and would have made the four whole if she had gone in place of one of us. The journey would have been unkind to her, but perhaps the party would have stayed intact."

"One person really does make all the difference," Star concluded. "It's often said so, and it is more true than we sometimes think."

Marlie cleared her throat and shook her head, as if to shake the memories from her head. "Star, perhaps you will tell them of the Titans," she suggested, expertly changing the subject. "Tell them of how it began. You tell the stories quite well."

"Very well. If you are all done with my notebook, I need it back. Though I could tell these stories from memory, it helps when I have a guide."

The notebook made its way back around the group and back into her hands. She flipped through the pages and found the story she was looking for.

"Now, I want you all to remember something as I read this tale," she said seriously. "It seems impossible and completely fantastic, but it is true. It is the story of the first Earth Titan, how she came into her power, and how she united our people."

All were silent, eyes attentively watching her, as she read the tale from her book.

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 _The Bear Queen_

 _Long ago, there stood a great mountain which was kept by the dragon called Finlair, son of Aldebaran, and lord of ancient, silent Earth. At the base of this mountain dwelt four tribes of human folk, which Finlair watched over with his whole heart. There dwelt a tribe a mighty warriors, a tribe of simple farmers, a tribe of quiet scholars, and a tribe of fearsome wild men._

 _The four tribes were long given over to great battles and terrible wars, as each fought to claim the mountain as their own. The warriors fought with swords and spears. The farmers took up their hoes and ploughshares. The scholars fought with clever traps, having little strength or power of their own. The wild men went into battle armed only with their bare hands._

 _For many centuries the fighting raged on, to the great dismay of the dragon. It was often said that he walked among the people in the guise of a human—an old mountain hermit who would venture down to them from the snowy summit, speaking of peace and unity. But the people were prideful, and refused to hear his gentle words. This brought terrible sadness to the dragon, and he soon gave up trying to soothe the people. He retreated to his lair, despairing for the people of his heart, and turned his eye from their bitter fighting._

 _One day, deep in the forest that surrounded the mountain, a strange thing happened. A young mother black bear was walking through the trees with her new cubs, and she stumbled upon a curious sight. It was a toddling human girl-child, lost among the trees. It was unknown how she had come to be there. Whether she had been abandoned, or had lost her parents to the wars of her people can never be said, even to this day. However, because the bear was a young mother and had children of her own, she took the lost child into her mother's heart. She took the child into her own den, and raised her alongside the two cubs, as a cub of her own._

 _The child, called Girl of the Trees by mother bear, grew up in the forest, among the plants and animals. She spoke to mother bear and her two brother bears as if they spoke the same tongue. She learned to care for the animals of the forest: to bring their young into the world, to heal their pains, and to comfort their elderly in their dying. She learned the ways of the trees and flowers, how and when to tend them, and which ones were good for healing._

 _Years went by. The toddler grew first into a sprightly girl and then slowly into a young maiden. Her hair grew long, wild, and black as night. Her eyes were full of sunlight, and green as the spring grass. Girl of the Trees came to know the land more closely and beautifully than any human before her, and brought great joy to all the creatures of her forest home. Sometimes, though, she would climb to the top of the highest trees and gaze upon the land of her true people with a heavy heart. Seeing their terrible wars from afar troubled her deeply, and she longed for a day when the fighting would cease. Then, perhaps, she might return to them. She wished to do something to change their hearts, but feared that she would never possess such power._

 _One destined afternoon, she strolled the forest with one of her grown brother bears, through part of the territory he had claimed for himself. And through the trees, brother bear was enraged to discover that the tribes had gone to war once again, in a part of his own land. Finding the invasion an insult and a threat, he gave a mighty roar and charged through the trees at the intruders. Girl of the Trees was terrified, knowing well her brother would fall into the traps of the scholars, and be cut down by the swords and ploughshares of the warriors and farmers, and be ripped apart by the hands of the wild men,. She gave chase and called after him, begging him to hear her and stop his rampage. But he went on charging, roaring in rage; and she went on chasing him, calling him, even though she knew he was beyond hearing her._

 _The four tribes all looked up in surprise from their fighting, to see a grown black bear charging at them. And even greater was their surprise when they saw a wild, beautiful maiden burst from the trees, calling the bear as if they spoke the same tongue. Before their eyes, the maiden ran to stand before the bear, begging in an animal language to be calm and to turn back. To their great amazement, the bear understood her, and they watched in amazement as the rage slowly faded from the bear's eyes at the maiden's command._

 _The people began to cheer in wonder over the beautiful maiden, who had appeared so suddenly from the trees, and had the power to speak with the bears of the forest. The leaders of the four tribes came before her, for once united in joy over this unexpected gift, and asked her to tell them her name._

 _And so the maiden called herself Milantis—which means "Girl of the Trees", in the human tongue. The people were overjoyed at her appearance, and the magical powers she seemed to possess, and called her Bear Queen. The warriors brought her to sit in their place of honor, and the farmers brought her the finest of their harvest; the scholars dressed her in the robes of their highest, and the wild men pledged the loyal service of their best fighters to her. Girl of the Trees, now called Milantis, looked over her native people and let her heart be filled with joy to see them unified, at long last. Finally, they were at peace, and she rejoiced to be the cause of such happiness and celebration._

 _But the happiness and celebration was not to last. The four leaders soon came before her and demanded to know which tribe she had come from, and to which she would lend her powers. They wished the wars to be won, and the true masters of the mountain to be decided once and for all. Each of the leaders pointed to his or her own offering, and each insisted that they had more than won her loyalty._

 _Milantis was astounded and puzzled, because she did not know which tribe she had come from. She had come to bear traits of each one—the warriors' strength, the farmers' knowledge of the land, the scholars' gentleness, and the untamed spirit of the wild men. Even if she had possess a way of knowing, the thought of taking any one side tore at her heart, for it belonged to all the tribes as much as the mountain did._

 _The four leaders were far from satisfied with her answer, and demanded with harsh words and threats that she must make her decision. Milantis felt her heart break, and so fled from her people without looking back at their stubborn pride and greed. She did not know where her feet or her broken heart were taking her, but she ran, and ran—toward the mountain, where she would never again have to look upon the people who had disappointed her so._

 _She fled past her confused brothers, not hearing them ask what troubled her. On she ran through the trees, not hearing them calling her to play in their shade. She ran even past mother bear, not hearing at all when she begged her to stop. On and on Milantis ran, until she came to the secret stair that led up the side of the mountain; even then, she did not stop running, but began to climb._

 _She ran for a day and all through the night. Just before dawn, exhaustion and misery overcame her, and she fell to her face near a cave that seemed to breathe with fire. But Milantis did not notice, for the aching of her broken heart was unbearable. She lay on the rock, weeping her grief, on the verge of throwing all her hope away._

" _Girl, why are you weeping?" came a deep voice from nearby. Startled, Milantis looked up and saw an old man sitting upon a rock before her. His clothes were rough and worn from a life lived alone on the mountain. His hair was white as new snow, and his beard reached past his waist. His eyes burned with firry wisdom. And for all his years, he stood quite straight and tall, with great majesty._

 _Milantis had not expected to meet another soul on the mountain, but was silently glad that someone had found her. No doubt, the elder had fled to the shelter of the mountain like she had, to escape the fighting below. Certain of this, she told him of her sad adventure._

" _If only I knew how to change their hearts, I would spare nothing," she cried to the elder. "Not even my own heart. I would give anything for there to be peace in our land."_

 _And the elder, who was truly the dragon Finlair in his human guise, was pleased with her words. Never before had he seen such humility or selfless love in a human being. His dragon heart was deeply moved by hers, for it was like his own._

" _Come into the cave with me, and I will show you the answer," he said, and the elder stepped into the cave which breathed fire. With a wild, renewed hope, Milantis rose and dried her eyes, and followed him._

 _At first, she supposed that her weary eyes were deceiving her. There in the cave, the form of the mountain hermit had vanished. Instead, and ice-white dragon loomed before her, awaiting her with eyes that burned with the wisdom of the ages._

 _Yet she felt no fear. She knew, somehow, that the dragon was the only true lord of the mountain, and that he was also the elder who had befriended her. And because she knew the ways of the land and its creatures, she knew that she could trust him. He led her deep, deep into the cave, which began to burn like the dragon's fire, like the wisdom in his eyes._

 _And here, he revealed his secret treasure. Deep within the cave, in the very center of the mountain, boiled a lake of liquid gold which no human eyes had ever fallen on._

 _Before her eyes, the dragon plucked a single scale from his chest, right above his soft heart, groaning with pain as it was taken from his body. It was his smallest scale, yet it gleamed with power as great as his largest._

 _Before her eyes, he took the small scale in his great talons and lowered it into the lake of gold. And when he brought it forth, the scale no longer gleamed like ice, but with the gold that had already hardened to coat and protect it._

 _This token he presented to Milantis, full of his own power. It was only a tiny fragment, but it was enough to shake her very bones with its might._

" _I gift you with the truth and solidarity of ancient, silent Earth," the dragon proclaimed. "Today, you burn with the power of my hallowed mother star. Today, you shall make your people one."_

 _Indeed, as Milantis took the talisman, she saw the truth, and the answer. With thanks and joy, she departed from the cave that was the mountain's own heart. She returned to the base of the mountain, knowing full well what she had to do._

 _Beyond the forest that was her home, she knew of a still and secret valley, and knew that it would suit her purpose well. She felt the power of the land singing into her blood and into her soul, as it filled her with strength and courage as she had never known. All around her, it seemed as though the creatures and the very trees bowed as she passed, in silent awe of the being she had become, and the talisman she now carried._

 _There in the secret valley, she called the earth to life, and sang magic into the solid rock. Great trees sprang up at her touch, and empty fields filled with flowers and good fruits. From deep underground she summoned a great spring of crystal clear water. And from the mountain itself, she summoned a streaming river of liquid gold to flow down to a pool of stone. All the valley was bathed in the radiance of the golden river. In the light of the sun, and in the light of the moon, the world that Milantis crafted was illuminated in light._

 _All through the night she crafted a new home for her people—one home to be shared by all. She finished her great work as the sun rose; high above her, the dragon Finlair roared in triumph. And his roar was a call to the people of his heart, to come forth and see what his Titan had made for them._

 _Though they did not understand the call, the people of the four tribes ceased their fighting and followed it at once to where it led them. And there, they found a strange new place where once had been an empty valley. A place where pleasant trees grew, and yellow flowers covered the grass, and pools of clear water and liquid gold sparkled in the light of dawn._

 _And standing tall among it all, waiting to welcome them, was the Bear Queen—Milantis, the first Titan of ancient, silent Earth._

" _I bid you welcome to our new home," she said, no longer in the voice of a wild maiden, but in the grand voice of a queen. "From this day to the last, we will be one people in our new, golden valley. Never again will we fight over our land, but for it, together, as one. I curse the day our land is fought over once again. Should that terrible day come, I pray the mountain to crumble upon the offenders, to seal our home in silence until peace returns once more."_

 _This time, the four leaders did not dare question her. The warriors and farmers threw down their weapons at once. The scholars abandoned their crafting of traps. The wild men quite suddenly lost their wildness to the thought of home, where their hands were needed for creation._

 _And so the people of Earth were united at last, under the power, care, and great love of their Titans. Their new home came to be known as the Valley of Gold, and its people came to prosper in wealth and wisdom. Ever since that time, they have tended their land and cared for the mountain which belongs to all people, and to the dragon. Never again did they go to war with themselves, as Milantis had decreed._

 _And so it has remained, to this very day._

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 _Afterthoughts…_

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Knights, I bid you welcome to your new home. Let us ride to… _The Valley of Gold!_

*queue ridiculously silly musical number*

And look at that—when the Zebak came and tried to take it for themselves, it collapsed on itself. Curses are not to be taken lightly around here.


	8. Chapter 8: The Gleaming Pen

_*From September, 2014…_

And today, the prophecy is fulfilled. ;)

This chapter highlights just how much _Deltora Quest_ I have been reading lately. Iris keeps sounding suspiciously like Lindal of Broome, I think… 0.o

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 _Chapter 8: The Gleaming Pen_

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After that first day of unpacking and settling down, the visiting Rinfolk quickly beat their days into a steady rhythm. They rose early, worked through the days, and returned to the inn or the homes of their hosts for a meal and well-earned rest. With each day that passed, more of their wares disappeared, replaced with traded goods.

For Star, it was very much the same. Instead of joining her family at the markets, she spent long days in the enormous library, as she had planned. The sheer volume of the collection was enough to occupy the first whole week. On that first day, as she had finally made her way to the building, she had been greeted at the door by a girl about her own age, dressed in blue from head to toe.

"I am Alianora of Pandellis, apprentice scholar and keeper of the books," the girl had said formally. "Sir Perlain had informed us that you would be coming, and asked me to assist you during your stay with us."

"Oh. I hadn't been expecting an assistant," Star had answered, not sure what else to say.

"Our library is quite extensive. He does not doubt you, but he fears that you may become lost. He has asked me to make your work as pleasant and easy as possible. Please, follow me."

With that, Alianora had opened the doors and ushered Star inside. The first floor of the building was vast, and shelves of books towered to the ceiling. The few empty spaces between the shelves were occupied with long tables and benches, with neat stacks of loose paper and pots of ink spaced along them. The building smelled strongly of paper, leather, and the burning oil of the many lit lamps. To the apprentice scholar, it was home. To Star, it was staggering.

"Our books are all organized and coded for your convenience," Alianora had explained, partially ignoring how overcome her guest was. "Histories, science, and softer studies are located in the left-hand wing; fictional works are located in the right. A catalogue of all our works can be found in the back of the library. You will find the catalogue arranged in alphabetical order, also for your convenience, with the title, author, and code for each work clearly labeled. If you encounter any problems, I am to remain nearby to answer your questions. Is there anything I may assist you with presently?"

"I think I'll just browse for a while," Star had answered absently, still taking in the number of books around her, wondering where she wanted to begin. Alianora had smiled understandingly.

"Very well, miss. If that is the case, I think you will find everything in order. Should you need me, I have books to replace in the right wing. Feel free to the paper and ink provided, as they are a courtesy. If you find yourself in need of anything, you now know where to find me."

The two girls had nodded to one another, at an accord, and had started off in opposite directions. Alianora had gone to her work in the fiction section. Star had started off to find a hefty science text to pour over.

 _We don't have nearly enough science books at home,_ she had thought, invigorated. _The best sciences we have are all in my house, in papa's study. And they all deal in magic. I long to see how the rest of humanity sees the world._

She had gone on to spend the rest of that week just pulling random books off shelves, devouring the knowledge within with an appetite she had never known she possessed. The provided ink was useful, as she quickly used up the supply she had brought with her; but she used her own notebooks, which were filling up with alarming speed. It dawned on her that perhaps she would have to buy new ones while she was in Maris, along with the pen of her prophecy.

On the second day, she had asked Alianora where she might go to purchase pens and blank books for writing. The girl had been very excited in her interest, and had informed her that the library frequently sold such things to its patrons. She had hurried Star to a storeroom near the catalogues, which was filled with all sorts of things for a writer. Empty books of many sizes, shapes, and colors lined its shelves. Drawers had opened to reveal rows of quill pens, calligraphy brushes, and styluses of compressed coal. Other shelves held inks of many colors, in vials, bottles, and jars. There were also dictionaries, translation guides, rulers, glue, and some tools that Star had never seen before.

She had chosen a thick notebook with purple leather binding, because she thought it prettiest; but she had noted that none of them were a good size for her final draft. She had also gone over the collection of pens with a critical eye, hoping that one might stand out from the rest. The wooden handles of the brushes were polished to a fine sheen, and the quills were all crafted from bright plumes, each one a work of art. But none of them felt right to her. None of them quite matched the idea of the gleaming pen from her prophecy.

"There is another shop nearby, just down the road from here, if you do not see what you are looking for," Alianora had commented, seeing the vague disappointment on Star's face. "We prefer to carry more traditional tools here. But other shops can sell you pens with metal nibs, such as the one I saw you using yesterday. You seem to be looking for something very specific."

"I am. It has to be the _right_ pen. I just have to keep looking until I find it."

"I… I have never used a pen like yours before," Alianora had added shyly. "The scholars say it is too modern for us. Many people find our plumed quills to be old fashioned, though, and use the metal nibs more and more often. As an apprentice scholar, I have hardly been allowed to see one. Might I try using yours? Just for a moment?"

"Of course," Star had agreed. She had opened her new notebook and taken her pen from her bag, handing it to her eager new friend. Looking thrilled to be breaking so many rules, Alianora had taken a vial of black ink from its shelf and cautiously dipped the nib inside.

"Not too far," Star had warned. "Too much, and you'll get blotches. I learned that the hard way."

Smiling her thanks, Alianora had written her name on the first page of the notebook. The nib had made a slight scratching sound as it glided across the page. Alianora had been impressed and very pleased.

"Oh, see how smooth it writes. It feels as though it could fly right out of my hand. What a splendid device! And what a shame, that the scholars refuse to use them. They would not be pleased to see me doing this."

Star had smiled in amusement. In the end, she had purchased the notebook, the ink vial that Alianora had already opened, an unopened vial of red ink, and a jar of black to refill her own vials from. Also, even though it had been a birthday present, she had left the pen to Alianora, to use in her free time. Star had another one, after all. And she couldn't see how she could refuse the girl something that brought her so much joy.

This had been the most excitement of the first week. Now it was the second week, and Star was returning to the library with a treasure in her bag. She had gone back to the Cavern of the Crystal that morning, where the Keeper had been waiting to return the Book, at last.

"It is a fine work, as it is," he had declared. "I thoroughly enjoyed it, Star. All the same, you will notice corrections of my own here and there—spelling errors, mostly, though your family seems to have caught most of them already. I am glad that you leave generous margins, child, for I made more use of them than is perhaps acceptable. I hope you enjoy my commentaries."

Star had no doubt that she would. Having the Book back was so exciting to her. Now she could start interviewing her father's friends, as she had planned. Having the Keeper's commentary was a terrific starting point. She wondered if it was too soon to let Alianora glance over it.

 _I have so many books checked out already, and I haven't even finished one yet,_ she thought. _I'll look over what the Keeper has left me later, when I'm at home, and the others can have a look. Then I will share with Alianora, and she can share it with the scholars. Perhaps, if they deem it worthy enough, one of them will offer to help me make the copies of the final draft._

Walking into the library had become a less grand affair since that first day; Star no longer felt like a small fish in a sea of books, but like a welcomed guest. Her arrival attracted little attention, say from Alianora, who was waiting just inside to meet her as usual.

"Should you need anything, you know where to find me," the girl greeted, as she had done every morning. Star nodded in reply and continued to her usual table. Alianora had quickly found that Star needed little assistance. Star had yet to search for anything specific, and was content to simply wander the shelves, pulling out any book that struck her fancy. The pile of books she had amassed was growing steadily. The idea that she might have to stop and actually finish one of them had begun to prick at the back of her mind.

And so, once she was situated with her ink and notebooks arranged as she liked them, Star selected the tome from the top of her stack and began pouring through it, determined to finish it that afternoon. It was a guide on the birds of the northern mountains, a region which Star had only heard of in Traveler tales, and hoped she would visit one day. For some reason, she had thought it strange that the Maris library would have books on all animals, all plants, and all peoples of their world—she had found detailed lists of herbs from the plains, and beasts from her own home, alongside guides to the fish of the local sea.

Long ago, it might have suited the Maris to fill their library exclusively with their personal experience. They had been separated from others, locked in their bitter clan wars, like the people of Earth had been. But then, the Maris had been gifted with a Titan of their own—Orin the Wise, the first Keeper of the Crystal. He had brought unity to his people, and they had prospered. Once they had begun to deal with the other peoples of the world, this prosperity had grown tenfold. While they had the strength and skill to offer it, they were glad to record the knowledge of their brothers and sisters alongside their own.

And now the library had to be as big as it was. It was the only building in the world that could house the knowledge, experience, and wisdom of three different peoples. Perhaps, Star liked to hope, it had once contained the knowledge of a fourth…

She had searched on her own, but had found no evidence that any Zebak history had ever been kept in the library. If there ever had been, it would have been thousands of years ago. And, Star supposed, it all would have been destroyed by now, and any scholar who might have known of it would deny it had ever happened.

She could feel a gaping void there, an obvious and depressing lack of presence where she felt the knowledge of the Zebak ought to be. For self-defense, if for nothing else. An understanding of their part of the world and their customs would be most useful if they ever tried to invade again. But they had separated themselves from the rest of the world, and now very little was really known of them. It was merely assumed, now, that they were a race of vicious, cunning warriors and monsters, who wanted nothing more than the western world for themselves.

 _Never assume anything,_ Star remembered the Keeper saying. _It makes an ass of you and me, both. All that we know of our ancient enemy is based on assumptions. And that bothers me as much as I know it bothers my father, and the other Titans. Much of what we think we know may turn out to be quite wrong. Norriss and Shaaran certainly seem to think so._

Star hadn't thought very hard about her family in nearly a week, because she had been so absorbed in her work. But thinking of her aunt and uncle suddenly turned her thoughts back to the west, toward Rin. She suddenly wondered how everyone was getting along. She wondered how the village was faring, missing its best baker and cleverest weaver. She wondered how John was doing, without the usual extra pair of hands to help him. She hoped her aunt and uncle were feeling better, by now.

Most of all, she hoped her father was feeling less anxious, and that he was enjoying himself.

 _That last hope may be a long shot,_ she told herself. She shook her head, and returned to her book.

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Another week went by in this way. Star found herself almost in a fever, because only two weeks of her stay in Maris remained, and she felt that she was nowhere near enough time to do everything she had planned to. There were too many books left unread. Too few notes taken to bring home. Too many references she still wished to find. And, despite several trips to every shop and market stall she heard of, she still hadn't found the pen she was looking for. She was sure that she had looked over every pen that Maris had to offer, including a few truly beautiful works of art. And she had turned them all down with a heavy heart.

One had been crafted from silver, and the artist—a man of Umbray, of course—had proudly insisted that it was certainly meant for her. But the piece was expensive, and Star was unable to afford it; and she could feel in her heart, though it flashed brilliantly in the light, it was not meant for her, after all.

One afternoon, she was startled from her reading by the library doors banging open suddenly, disturbing all the other patrons around her. Everyone looked up in puzzled annoyance, peering toward the entrance way, trying to see who had disturbed them.

None of them had to wonder for very long. In a few moments, Forley and Alanis both appeared, striding determinedly past the bookshelves, obviously looking for Star. Alianora was struggling to keep up with them, looking alarmed.

Slightly embarrassed, Star tried to hide behind her book, and hoped they wouldn't notice her.

 _I'll wait until they leave. Then I'll catch up with them and see what they want,_ she decided.

Of course, she stood out far too much to be missed so easily. Hair and dark skin aside, she was the only patron in the library who wasn't Maris. Her cousins spotted her right away, and she heard their heavy footsteps coming closer and closer.

"There you are, small Star," Forley said loudly. "We've been looking all over for you!"

"Shhh!" She hissed back, holding a finger to her lips, along with everyone else at the long table. Even Alianora had hushed him, out of instinct. Her young face was thunderous.

"We're in a library, dumb," Star whispered back, also angry. "Keep your voice down."

"Oh! Sorry," he said in a lower, sheepish voice. She couldn't remember the last time he had been so quiet.

Also annoyed with him, Alanis shoved her way past him and greeted Star with a smile. "Come outside with us," she whispered. "We wanted to discuss something with you. Something… fun."

"I'm busy," Star whispered back, exasperated, gesturing at her open book.

"Your books will be here tomorrow. Just come with us. Hear us out, at least."

Star sighed and rolled her eyes. She marked her page with a scrap of paper, and hurried to follow her cousins. She could feel the stares of the other patrons boring into her back as she walked away. She shrugged apologetically to Alianora, who shrugged back in answer.

 _The sooner I get them out of here, the better,_ she thought. _This is so embarrassing…_

When the three of them were outside, Forley stretched his arms wide and yawned boredly.

"That much quiet was exhausting," he commented. "I don't understand how you tolerate it."

"Never mind that," Star answered crossly, shoving her elbow into his side. "Really, I'm very busy. What do you want?"

Alanis crossed her arms and sighed. "I don't blame you for being mad at him, but you don't have to take it out on me, too. I warned him to keep his voice down, but he never listens to reason. But back to the point. We have the afternoon to ourselves, and have planned a short trip to the cliffs, as we had spoken of a while back. We had hoped that perhaps you would come with us."

"Iris is already waiting at the house for us to return with you," Forley added. "She's overly excited, as usual. Our adventure last year ended in disaster, and we have been looking forward to trying again. And this time, we'll have a real warrior to save the day. You should abandon your studies, just for this one afternoon, and come with us."

Star was interested at once, but she tried hard to resist it. "I remember you mentioning it before we left home. I also remember Leah pointing out that none of our parents would ever stand for it."

"Indeed. That's why we haven't told them of it," Forley answered, as if it were obvious. "As far as they know, we are going for a walk on the far side of the beach to search for shells, as we often do. Not even Leah is aware of it. If she were, she would tattle on us in an instant."

"So, as you can see, it's a grand secret. Oh, Star, we insist that you come with us. An opportunity like this doesn't come along every day, after all."

They were so excited about their impending journey, and their excitement was infectious. Star felt it creep into her heart, tugging impatiently, and she suddenly felt a deep longing for an adventure. Something outrageously out of the ordinary to shake up the routine she had established. Something dangerous, against the rules—even her godparent's rules—that would scare her whole family half to death. She had never done anything so dangerous, or broken so many rules so blatantly. At least, not on purpose.

She grinned at them. "Sounds like fun. Let me get my bag, and I'll be right back."

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An hour and a half later, a party of four was trekking determinedly through the pine forest that sparsely climbed the side of the cliff. Iris was in the lead, practically bounding up the path that wound through the trees. Forley and Star trotted behind her, filled with energy and anticipation. Alanis came last, stalking casually behind them, wondering silently at their madness, as well as her own.

"Star," she called, "remember when you wrote the third adventure? You wrote something about while my brother and the others sat on the island puzzling through another riddle, my father would have been halfway up this cliff side."

"I remember it well," Star answered over her shoulder, wondering why she would bring up something so specific.

"That passage just now popped into my head," Alanis called back. "I don't know why, exactly, but that's stuck with me ever since I read it. It sounds just like him. And it just dawned on me that here I am, halfway up this cliff side! Isn't it funny? Or perhaps prophetic?"

Star tossed a pleased smile at her cousin. She had always been particularly proud of those words, even though they had come from her own father's brain instead of hers. He had said that he remembered thinking that thought very distinctly, and that it had vaguely frustrated him in the moment. In any case, it described her grandfather perfectly. And it described his daughter just as well.

Near the top of the cliff, the forest began to thin out, and the trail that Iris was following grew fainter. Clearly, few Maris ever ventured this far.

"This forest is an excellent source of timber," Iris explained idly, keeping her voice down. "Norriss and Bronden are always overly excited about it and are willing to pay an outrageous amount of money for the lumber, though I can never hope to understand it. We only harvest the trees on the lower part of the cliff side, when we can. The only people who ever come this far are curious children, like me."

"Judging from the trail, there are few of you," Alanis commented dryly.

"Mother and father have been warning from babyhood not to climb the cliff. They always threaten me with severe beating, if they ever catch me doing so. Therefore, I naturally climb as far as I can, whenever I find the time. I keep the trail well beaten, believe me."

"It's a wonder she still has any feeling in her backside," Forley added cheekily. "She may be proud and boastful, but she has been caught many times. Oh, and to say nothing of what happened last year. I was sure that all our parents would kill us both."

"It would have served you both right," Alanis answered, raising her voice to be heard from the back of the line. "You nearly met your ends up here."

Iris spun around and hushed Alanis sharply. "Keep your voice down," she hissed, lowering her voice almost to a whisper. "We are now very close to the fighter's nesting grounds. If they hear us, they will attack. If Forley had not ignored my warnings last year, we never would have ended up in that mess."

Forley shrugged unapologetically, and continued to follow her without a word.

Star sidled up beside him and poked his shoulder. "Trading one silence for another, are we?" she whispered.

He gave her an unimpressed look, then turned his focus back on the trail. He was also proud and boastful, and normally very loud; but it seemed that he could muster a little restraint for this trip. Clearly, he had learned his lesson, and had no wish to repeat last year's misadventure.

The forest had grown very thin; it ended in a broad plateau of gray rock and dry, scraggly grass. Far ahead, they could see where the plateau narrowed to a jagged point, jutting out into the sea like a spear. All they could see beyond that was an expanse of gray sky, and they could hear the wind whistling sharply across the rocks.

Staying hidden in the trees, they scanned the rocks for a tell-tale flash of green, and strained to listen for angry screeching. But all seemed peaceful. Suddenly, Iris made a signal and pointed into the jumbled rocks.

"Look," she whispered. "There. That is one of the nests."

They all looked where she was pointing, and were astonished to see that one of the rocks had begun to shift on its own. The rock wasn't a rock at all. It was an enormous, silvery gray bird with a curved orange beak. It's cold black eyes darted around the plateau, obviously aware that something was lurking nearby.

"That is one of the queens," Iris explained, almost too softly to be heard. "See how she blends in with the rocks? She is perfectly hidden, while she sits on the eggs in the nest. She will rise and defend her babies, if she feels threatened, but she will probably remain where she is. She is only one of three or four that I know nest here. Of course, the other queens are also hidden, and so I cannot see where they are, exactly."

"That is good and well for them," Alanis whispered back, never taking her eyes from the bird they had found. "But what of the males?"

"There are a great many queens in the area, but only a few kings. They are highly territorial, and will defend their own nesting grounds with their lives. The king of this nest is probably fishing, to bring food for his queens and their young. The babies hatch about this time every year, and I have seen them gulp down whole catches in seconds. The kings have to make many fishing trips every hour to keep their families fed."

"If he were here, we probably would have seen him by now," Forley added. "The males are all bright green, and impossible to miss. He is probably fishing right now. In which case, he will return in all his glory shortly."

"In which case, we should hope he will be too busy tending to his brood to notice us," Iris concluded. "The fighters are ferocious on a normal day; but if they feel that their queens or their babies are being intruded upon, they will lash out at anything. And other kings will do anything to invade and conquer their neighbor's territories at this time of year. The nests are so often left unguarded, it is easy. And then there will be a fight."

Alanis turned a cold glare on Iris. "You mean to tell me, you've hauled us all the way up here to spy on the fighters when they're most easily agitated? It's no wonder you were almost killed before! Now it _really_ would have served you right!"

"Alanis, please, keep your voice down!" Star insisted, tugging on the sleeve of her cousin's jacket. "The king is coming back. I can see him."

Indeed, a flash of green was descending into their view, to settle among the rocks with the air of a ruler. All around the plateau, the other hidden queens were raising their heads. Their feathers began to ruffle as they puffed themselves up, suddenly twice as big as they were before. They began squawking sharply to one another across the rocks, and at the king, in what sounded to Star like a warning.

A shadow fell over Iris' face.

"This is one of the kings," she breathed, "but he is not _the_ king. He is an intruder, like I said. Now the queens agree that they are being threatened, and that their babies are in danger. If their king does not return soon, they will fight him, themselves."

"But why?" Alanis asked. "Why should they be in danger, just because this stranger has entered their nesting grounds?"

Iris suddenly looked very sad. "If this king conquers the nest, he will kill all the young of his defeated neighbor, so that he can mate with the queens himself. That is why the kings are so vicious with one another, this time of year. They have much to lose."

Alanis and Star were both slightly horrified. The creatures of their own place were gentle and peaceful, and would never turn on each other so greedily, or take advantage of each other's weakness. And the thought of the hatchling fighters being slaughtered by a vengeful conqueror made their skin crawl unpleasantly. It reminded them distinctly of a darker time long ago, when their own people had been trapped just as mercilessly. They hoped at the same time that the king of this nest would return quickly.

Forley was rolling his eyes. "And to think," he said. "If our king isn't fishing for his family, he is off somewhere, trying to do the same thing to this guy. All of the fighters lose the game—especially the queens and their babies. It's all so unfair."

"It is nature," Iris said simply. "I have watched these birds for many years, and it is always the same story. It is what they do. It is how they have always lived. It is how their parents lived, and how their babies will live when they are grown. They are not people, and do not know what it is to change. If nothing else, they can provide us with a warning. We can watch them, and remember how much better it is for us to live in peace, than to wage endless war."

As if in answer, a furious screech sounded high above them, and a shadow fell over the rocks. In a flurry of wind and flying green feathers, the real king of the nest shot down out of the sky, flashing talons aiming for the intruder. The sound that rose from the rocks was deafening—the two kings, screeching curses at one another; the queens, by turns relieved and terrified, squawking encouragements to their mate; the shrill, confused cheeping of the hatchlings, safe under the ruffled feathers of their mothers.

The four friends watched in fearful fascination from the pine trees, as the two kings hovered in the air above the rocks, jabbing with their beaks, their mighty talons reaching for one another. The king of this nest was larger than the intruder, his feathers a deeper, almost emerald green. Clearly, he was much older and more experienced than his smaller, lighter-colored contender. But the younger king was faster in his smallness, and more energetic and pugnacious in his youth. He easily outmaneuvered the king several times; more than once, the king just barely escaped the jabbing of its sharp beak.

Star watched in silence for long minutes, as the battle raged on, and the birds went on shrieking. Finally, she could stand the suspense no longer. She glanced down, looking for something to throw. She grabbed a pinecone from the ground and leapt from behind her tree, ignoring her friends' gasp of surprise and terror. She took aim and threw the pinecone as hard as she could, hoping that the younger king would remain where he was long enough to make her effort worthwhile.

The pinecone hit its mark soundly. It smacked the smaller bird square in the face, and it shrieked in surprise and pain. Dazed, it was helpless as the king razed talons across its chest and face. Blood spattered the rocks, and the queens all seemed to cheer in triumph. Seeing that it was clearly outmatched, the smaller king awkwardly wheeled around and flew off clumsily into the sky.

Satisfied that its nest was no longer threatened, the king settled on the ground and surveyed his small kingdom. His queens were trilling in relief, and the hatchlings were quieting down. It stopped and stood as still as a menacing statue, as all at once, its eyes settled on Star.

With her red dress and dark hair tangling in the wind, she was impossible to miss as the deep green king was. They matched each other in height; but he had the obvious advantage of his beak and talons, and the only weapon she had was a knife in her bag, which seemed pitiful by comparison. She was paralyzed with surprise, as were her friends, still hiding in the trees.

Star and the king regarded each other for a long, tense moment. He was not a tame creature, and would be impossible to approach or reason with. Even though she was the one who had turned the battle in his favor, he would treat her as he treated any other intruder. She was trespassing in his kingdom, and her presence would not be tolerated. Star felt the impulse to run screaming in her mind, but her legs were stiff, and she couldn't take her eyes from the fighter.

Like a lightning bolt, the fighter king launched himself at her with another furious battle cry. At last, Star felt enough panic to break away and run. Alanis, Forley, and Iris were also running, crying out in alarm, but all that she was really aware of was her own fear, her own need to get away, and the king's vicious screeching as he glided after them through the thin forest. If only they could make it further down the cliff, where the forest was thicker, he would be unable to follow them. If only…

But he was so swift. Would they make it to shelter in time?

Star felt another wave of panic, as the king's shadow fell over them. He was right on top of them now. All he had to do was plunge down, catch her in his talons, and swoop her up into the air. To rip her to shreds, or dash her against the rocks, or let her fall helplessly into the churning sea far below, or whatever other punishment his raging animal mind decided was best. She was dimly aware of emerald feathers raining down around her, brushing her arms and face, but mostly she just felt the panic. It gave her a burst of desperate speed, just enough to outrun the fighter, and plunge at last into the first trees of the thicker forest.

Her friends were all right beside her, sped by a similar panic. The shadow was left behind, and an angry, defeated scream sounded behind them. The king had been unable to follow them, where the trees stood so close together. They were safe, but by no means did they stop running. Only when they had nearly reached the bottom of the cliff did they stop to catch their breaths.

"That was a near thing," Alanis rasped between deep gulps of air. "You are absolutely unbelievable, Star! What on earth were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," she apologized. "I'm sorry."

"You should be! You were nearly killed—we all were! That thing would have eaten you for supper, and you know it! I might have expected such a thing from Forley, but from _you_? Unbelievable!"

"Well, how do you like that?" Forley laughed. "For once, something isn't my fault. My parents will be pleased to hear it."

"Are you mad?" Iris demanded. "If you are wise, you will make sure that they never hear it. Imagine what they will do to us, not only for making the trip again, but for bringing Star with us. Oh, perhaps it was not the best idea, after all…"

"Whatever the three of you think, I had a great time," he said cheerily. "And it seems that Star has brought a nice souvenir back with her."

He reached out and plucked something from Star's tangled hair. In his hand, he held an emerald-colored plume. It was nearly as long as his arm, and still gleaming with oil from the fighter king's body. They all remembered at the same time how many feathers the king had shed as he had overtaken them, how they had fallen like rain. Even now, their skin and clothes were all streaked lightly with the same oil, where other feathers had brushed them.

Smiling, Forley handed the plume to Star. "We can disguise how you really came upon this, quite easily," he said. "We will wait for the oil to dry, and then soak it briefly in the surf. We will tell our parents that you found it washed up in the tide. As for the stains on our clothes, they seem to be growing fainter as they dry. They will be nearly invisible by the time we get back to the house. No one will be the wiser."

"The Keeper is almost certainly aware of this," Iris commented warily. "Hopefully, he will not tell Perlain, who would tell his friends. If he can somehow hear us—and I hope that he can—I pray that he keeps this knowledge to himself. It would be a pity to have escaped so narrowly, only for our parents to wring our necks."

Alanis was still angry, especially now that her companions were being so lighthearted about the whole mess. Her anger was obvious, but true to her nature, she showed by maintaining silence, and keeping her face as blank as possible. Meanwhile, Star gazed down at the plume in her hand. The oil on it was still very fresh, and had a silken sheen. Even though the day was cloudy and the sun was well hidden, the plume was gleaming.

 _A gleaming pen…_

The thought pierced her mind like a dart. She smiled down at the feather, and she felt a strange connection with it. The plume could be easily crafted into a very beautiful pen. The quill was hollow, but quite sturdy and strong, and would last for many years to come. And even when the oil did dry and its sheen was long gone, she would never forget the way it looked right now. It was perfect, and beautiful. To her, it always would be.

 _This is it,_ she thought, feeling fully satisfied, as if a weight had lifted from her shoulders. _This is the gleaming pen for my writer's hand. With this plume, I will write the final draft. With this plume, I will shape our changing land._

 _With this plume, I will change the world._


	9. Chapter 9: Autumn

Well, up to this point, it has all been exposition and rising action. Today, we hit the climax—in all its horrific glory. Welcome to the next 4 books of your life.

I'm not going to lie, 5,000 of these 7,000 words is filler that I made up to stall for time. I was seriously not looking forward to writing this… :(

But it certainly catches up on what Zeel and Annad have been up to in the last 18 years, so don't complain.

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 _Chapter 9: Autumn_

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Rin hadn't been so quiet in nearly 20 years, as it was in the month that the trading party was gone. With so many large, loud personalities missing from the village, it was like a hush had fallen over the valley. The people almost didn't know what to do with themselves.

Rowan hadn't been sure what to do with himself, either. Somehow, the quiet felt like the calm before a storm. Something unexpected was about to happen. He had sensed it as soon as he had heard his daughter's last prophecy. Which was frustrating, because the sigil hadn't mentioned anything about change to him recently; it had only revealed its secret when Star had asked it.

That boded poorly for her, in his mind. It wasn't as if he had expected destiny to forget about her but… He had always hoped that destiny wouldn't place her center stage, or hunt her down, as it had hunted him.

His wife, mother, and remaining sister had all shaken their heads at his anxiety, told him to lighten up, and had gone about their own usual business, firmly suggesting that he do the same. It would give him something productive to focus on, to take his mind off fears that were probably pointless.

Going about his usual business had seemed nearly impossible, at first. Almost all of his business included Star in some way. For the first few hours, he had felt a little lost. Then, that evening, Zeel had pulled their nicest cups from a cabinet and filled them with her homemade honey mead.

"Cheer up, for the love of all things," she had insisted, shoving a cup into his hand. "You could kill someone with that frown."

She had filled the cups suspiciously full, far more so than usual. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you trying to drug me?"

"If by 'drug', you mean 'force a smile out of', then yes, that is exactly what I'm doing," she answered tartly. "Again, _please_ cheer up. Just imagine—we have the house all to ourselves for the next month. We can do whatever we wish, without fear of anyone's children getting under our feet. Think of the possibilities!"

"What did you have in mind, exactly?"

"I have no idea yet. We shall decide as we go along, for we have all the time in the world to do so. It's almost refreshing, not having a plan. It's been a long time since I haven't had each and every day planned out."

Rowan had wondered briefly about her enthusiasm, and quickly understood. The last time she had been without a plan, they had been climbing the mountain, and the world was threatened with an eternal winter. The unknown had been dangerous and frustrating, then. This time, it was different. This time, having no plan was less a sentence than a liberation. It wasn't just that anything could happen—it was that _they_ could _make_ anything happen.

And he had to agree, that was an exciting idea.

"Well then," he had said, raising his cup, "I look forward to deciding along the way with you."

She had smiled back, raising her own cup in answer. "To adventures," she said.

"To plans," he had added, as they clinked the cups together.

"And to throwing them away," she had concluded.

And so had begun a month of freedom and lack of fore planning in their house. Many things had changed temporarily in their home. Dishes had started piling up over days, either until the sink was overflowing or there were no more plates or spoons to eat with, and one of them was forced to wash them.

Their supply of mead, which normally lasted a month or more, disappeared in the first week. By that point, they had spoiled themselves; Zeel had decided that making more was her most important priority.

"It takes a week to brew properly, though, so we shall have to buy some in the meantime," she had said, very disappointed. "What a shame. I don't care for anyone else's nearly as much as I care for mine. But I'm sure _something_ will do, until my own brew is ready."

Rowan had also been disappointed. It was widely agreed that his wife made the best mead in the village. It was an age-old Traveler recipe—a wedding present from her adopted father—and she had sworn to keep it a secret. The brew was sweet, deceptively smooth, and very powerful. When he wasn't drinking it, himself, he prescribed it as medicine. It was strong enough to numb pain and cleanse wounds, and was also good for easing aches in the head and stomach.

They typically used it up slowly, and so a new batch was only made once every few months. When a new one was needed, Zeel usually doubled or even tripled the recipe, and sold it at the market. It was never surprising if she sold out within an hour, because her product was so coveted. Even the few people who despised her bought her mead religiously, hoping that if they tasted it enough, they could decode the secret recipe and make it for themselves. So far, their efforts had been fruitless.

Zeel was very proud that she could offer this to her husband's people. She drew a strong identity from honey, as all Travelers did. Honey was an amazing substance—it never spoiled, could be made from any flower, and had a myriad of uses. It was good to eat, on bread or cake, or in tea. It had antiseptic qualities, and the Travelers often used it to dress cuts and scrapes. It was easily added to soap, and helped keep hair and skin soft and smooth. She used honey for nearly everything, and it was frequently said that she spent more on the glorious golden liquid than on any other item in her home.

So far, Rowan hadn't found a reason to complain about this, and so he didn't. Not even when his neighbors commented that it seemed odd. Of course it seemed odd to them, he frequently thought. It wasn't how they had been raised, or how they lived. At any rate, he also appreciated how useful and wonderful honey was, though for an admittedly different reason. Because his dearest friend practically bathed in the stuff, she always smelled just like it. Even without honey-laden soap perfuming her hair and skin, he had always thought that she smelled just as sweet. It was part of who she was to him. In his mind, she had always smelled like fresh honey, warm sunshine, and sweet freedom.

It was common knowledge that they often ventured a short distance into the hills on pleasant evenings, and this continued with regularity. There were healing herbs that grew beyond the village which Rowan needed for his work, and some of them only ripened or blossomed in the damp and cool of the night; and Zeel usually went with him, to assist him and keep him company. They were normally never gone for very long, because they hated to leave their daughter alone. With her gone, however, it was easy to lose track of the time. There was nowhere in particular they needed to be. There were more and more nights when they simply walked for pleasure, wandering and talking into the late hours of the night, even lying in the grass and gazing at the brilliant heavens, as they had rarely been able to before.

Waking on time in the mornings following those nights was a pain, but well worth it.

They quickly began to wonder why they hadn't been letting Star go on these trips for years.

He had also spent an alarmingly considerable amount of time at the carpentry, looking after his sick friends. He had been optimistic before the trading party had left—after being ill for weeks, Shaaran had finally been recovering nicely from her cold. Then, all at once, her brother had caught her cold, and Bronden had caught it from him, after resisting it for nearly a month. They had all been optimistic about that, too; the two furniture makers were certain that their colds would pass in a day or two, in time to leave with the others.

That had not happened. When the trading party had left two days later, Norriss and Bronden were even worse, somehow. Again, they hadn't worried about it. They had insisted that would bounce back quickly, and catch up when they recovered. Surely, they had said, they were strong and healthy enough to shake off the cold after another day of bed rest.

That hadn't happened either, in spite of everything Rowan had done to heal them. The sickness had clung to them with an iron grip, no matter what he had done. They had both lain in bed for a week, racked with a nasty cough, runny noses, and a mild fever. There had been no possible way for them to make up for the time they had lost.

Finally, as suddenly as it had come over them, they had recovered. The fever had broken, and their coughing had eased. Over a night, it was like all sickness had vanished entirely from the carpentry. All three of them had jumped out of bed that following morning, healthy as horses, and deeply peeved to have missed going to the coast.

"I haven't been so ill since I was a small child," Bronden had commented, unusually thoughtful in her anger. "And I have rarely been ill at all since then. It all comes from being healthy and strong. This has been a strange thing… I sincerely hope that it doesn't happen again."

True to her practical nature, she chose not to dwell on it, and moved on with life. It was over now; and even though she had been unable to go on the trading trip, she was looking on the bright side. There was still plenty of work to be done around the carpentry, which wouldn't have to be put off for a month. She had pounced on the work with all her might, glad to have something productive to do.

All the same, Rowan could tell that his own thoughts were nagging at the back of her mind. The whole episode had been very strange in every way. It may not have been obvious from a distance, but there had been something almost supernatural about it.

 _Such an illness is easy enough to heal,_ he kept thinking to himself _. I've cured it many times in the past, in only a few hours. And this bug has been making its rounds, lately; I'm sure that every family in the village has been stricken with it over the last few months. But the most severe cases lasted less than a week. Even the youngest, weakest of our children recovered in a few days, without the help of earthen magic._

 _So why did it attack here so suddenly? And why did it refuse to go away, in spite of all the magic I threw at it? There is only one answer for it, I fear. It was no mere cold that had gripped my friends. It was the hand of Fate, itself. I'm sure of it._

Why Fate would chose to clutch his friends so tightly, now of all times, was a terrifying mystery to him. Going on this year's trip to the coast had meant much to them, and it had meant much to him as well. Three extra pairs of eyes on his young daughter would have brought him great comfort. Especially when they belonged to people with so much sense.

Allun and Marlie meant well, and they loved Star with all their hearts; but they had serious work to do, and couldn't be everywhere at all times. And he didn't entirely trust Allun not to encourage her more adventurous side. Shaaran and Norriss, on the other hand, would have hardly let Star out of their sight. The girl would have been kept on a short leash if they had been with her. She would have been frustrated; but at least her father could have trusted that she wasn't getting herself in any trouble.

He didn't expect that she would deliberately go looking for trouble, of course, and she had promised that the bulk of her adventures would only go as far as the books in the library allowed. But Maris was a large town, and Star was a young girl with a short temper and little patience. There was plenty of trouble she could stumble into while no one was watching her, and it made him uneasy.

At any rate, all the news he received from the coast was good, at worst uninteresting. The Keeper checked in with him nearly every day with a report on the trading party's work. He also told him everything that Star was up to, and assured him that the girl was behaving herself perfectly.

 _Her prophecy has been fulfilled,_ he had reported one day, his voice whispering into Rowan's mind like rolling waves, as it always had. _She has found her gleaming pen, at last. It seems that a fresh fighter's quill washed up in the tide, where she found it, picked it up, and carried it back with her. She has crafted a new pen from it, and is using it even now. It is just like old times, my friend. Ah, we might have known that it was as simple as it seemed._

 _Good old Doss,_ Rowan had thought when their connection had broken. _He wants me to stop worrying, as he knows I do. Like me, he wants to believe that her prophecy was less than we both know it is. We had prayed that the solution would be simple, and here it is. But he can't fool me, and he knows it well. There's something he isn't telling me about this gleaming pen…_

 _Oh, I shall think on it later. The Titan of Water can keep a secret as well the Titan of Earth; he is called Keeper, after all. The important thing is that the prophecy is fulfilled, and behind us for the time being. I will count that as a success, and leave it at that._

 _For now…_

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Another couple of weeks had passed in this way, and life had marched on as it was. The valley had changed remarkably in that month. The leaves on every tree were all brilliant gold, deep scarlet, and rich brown. The air was growing chillier and chillier by the day. Another impressive harvest was being brought in from the fields, and the storehouse was filling with incredible speed. There was even talk of enlarging the building when spring came again, because this year it was officially too small to hold the whole harvest.

Many people saw autumn as a sort of ending, a fever of preparations before the inevitable end that winter was. The seasons were symbolic of life, in that way—birth in the springtime, life in the summertime, preparations in autumn, and death in winter. And then springtime would come again, and the cycle would repeat itself. Just as people did.

Rowan could understand that; but the busyness that always came with the changing leaves filled him with energy. There was life and beauty to be seen in all the seasons. And autumn had always held a special importance in his heart. His birthday was in the middle of autumn. The leaves had only begun to change, when he had been swept off into his first adventure, and again on his first trip to Maris. Watching his wife carry their child through the fall had been like bringing in a harvest of their very own.

There were a lot of beginnings to celebrate every autumn, and the season that followed held no fear for him, either. Since he had become the Titan, the cold of winter had come to feel less like a death and more like a period of rest. It was a time to gather strength for the coming year, to peacefully enjoy what had taken all the seasons before to prepare. Especially now, when winter was so blissfully short. To him, winter was now a time to be savored.

He had a feeling that it would be a good winter, too. He couldn't wait to spend those months studying the notes that Star would bring back from the coast. He looked forward to continuing her training; she seemed ready for a more advanced level of work with the sigil. He also looked forward to shorter days and longer nights—more time for blessed sleep, when he could best recover his magical strength. He would follow the bukshah to the mountain, up the secret stair, and survey its landmarks, as he had been doing for years. Now that he understood that the mountain and the Dragon had needs of their own, he was determined to look after them.

He was toying with the idea of letting Star accompany him this year. He normally went alone, as the journey was his task. It was one of the rare occasions when even Zeel left him his space. She had no real desire to be on the mountain again, and often wondered when he grew excited about the trip every year. It was a far cry from his sisters—especially curious Annad—who begged him every year to take them along.

The mountain was no place for curiosity. He had a sort of sway over it now, because the sigil had bonded with him. But it was still a dangerous place, full of mystery and long lost secrets waiting to be uncovered. Now that he had the power to do so, he felt that it was his rightful mission to uncover and reclaim them all. It was still a difficult and draining task, which required no small amount of caution.

Happily, he was the most cautious person in Rin. There was no one else in the village who could have done this work. Star was not particularly cautious, but she respected her father's work, and she respected the mountain as was proper. And who was better to chronicle his discoveries than his studious daughter, whose plan was to write down the world's miraculous facts?

 _Making the journey together would mean much to her,_ he thought. Though he didn't relish the thought of bringing it up with his wife. It was another thing they would disagree bitterly on. Zeel would surely stand against such an idea with all her strength, and there was sense in that. The mountain was no place for children. They had learned this through horrible experience.

 _But there is sense in my point of view, as well,_ he told himself. _We will be equally matched in this argument, as we usually are. We will spend weeks fighting over it. No doubt she will banish me to couch in the common room for days; she did so last time we fought like this. I don't look forward to that… All the same, I will have to bring it up, sometime._

He resolved to save that string of arguments for another time. For the moment, life was too sweet to spoil with fighting and disagreements.

Early one afternoon, the voice of his far away brother whispered into his mind once again, bringing news he had been expecting for days.

 _The trading party has finished packing their things, said their farewells, and departed. The last of the wagons has trundled out of the town, and my place feels sadly empty for it. It has been a good and fruitful stay for us all. I hope your people manage to find just a little more room in their storehouse. A bounty is headed toward Rin._

 _And not just a bounty of goods,_ Rowan had answered, his own voice like the silent creeping of roots growing deep and deeper into the earth. _The wealth of knowledge my Star is carrying home is considerable, as well. You said she is bringing back several books full of her notes._

 _She filled ten thick notebooks in all this time. I struggle to imagine which sad tomes she left untouched in our library, though she lamented about barely scratching its surface._

 _It will be far more than we have here, in any case. My people have been scornful of her work in the past, unable to see how useful her skills really are. When they see all the work she has done, perhaps they will think differently. That will please this father's heart greatly._

 _Your step-father's heart will also be greatly pleased. Alanis has done well on her own. My people seem to like and trust her, as they have trusted John in the past. She is young and still has much to learn, but she has the makings of a discerning trader and a fine leader. You should be proud of your little sister. And tell your mother that she should be proud, also. I can see clearly as the sun, the role of a man's little wife would suit the child poorly. Tell Jiller that the Keeper of the Crystal says so. Perhaps the word of two Titans will put an end to her worries._

 _What of the rest of my family? I can't imagine it was a tearful farewell, but Marlie has never been one for good-byes._

The Keeper laughed softly in his mind, like a wave breaking against a rock. _No, it was not a tearful farewell,_ he agreed. _But it was a long one. They dislike being apart for 11 months out of the year, when such fellowship thrives between them. It is not as easy for them as it is for us, who are never terribly far apart at all._

 _So, we shall be expecting them back in the next few days. That will please my people. And the traders will be pleased, also, to see the work we have done here._

This time, the Keeper's laugh was sharper, enough to feel as though sea spray and foam had splashed into his mind. _So says the man with three days of unwashed dishes piling up in his kitchen sink. You should see to those at some point_ before _your daughter returns._

 _Oh, hush, you. It's on my to-do list. And I mean to get to it before my wife does. We have much to discuss in the coming weeks, and I would prefer to be on her sweeter side._

 _I shall leave you to it, then. Perlain is coming, and I wish to speak with him; and I sense that someone is coming to see you, as well. Your feisty sister, if I am correct. And I usually am._

 _Tell him hello for me, Doss. And thank him for looking after Star. Let him know how much it means to us all._

 _As if I have not been giving him such tidings all month, but I shall repeat it all once again. Tell your own family that I say hello, as well._

His voice faded as suddenly as it had appeared, and was gone like a receding tide.

 _It's nice that we come and go from each other's minds so freely,_ Rowan thought as he went to the door to greet his sister. _When it first happened, contacting each other took a great deal of concentration, and so we left it only for true moments of need. Now that we are both Titans, it's easy. That connection is still very special, because we had it before we quite realized who we were; and it was a clue that I should have taken better advantage of. I'm glad that we share it._

 _Which makes me wonder where Mithren has been, and why he hasn't spoken with us recently. He is normally as present in my mind as Doss is, and can come and go from us as easily as we can come and go from him. Yet we've only spoken with him once or twice in the last month. Where could he be, and what could he be up to?_

 _I'll have to worry about him later, though. Annad is enough of a distraction for the time being…._

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After Annad had left that afternoon, word of the trading party's return spread like wildfire. By the following afternoon, the whole village had been aware of it, and the people were buzzing with excitement. Life would soon be back to normal, and another year's worth of valuable goods would arrive to be bought and sold.

Word had not spread of what Annad had come to talk to her brother about, though. It was a secret she was wisely keeping as closely as she could, and was known to only a very small handful of people she trusted. Rowan wasn't sure if their mother even knew of it yet.

"I would be expecting a rather awkward question from Norriss in the next few weeks, if I were you," the woman had said vaguely. "Something to do with rings and white dresses and flowers, and possibly this coming summertime. Or perhaps he will mention next autumn. I don't think he's made up his mind just yet. In any case, it will be happening; so be prepared not to be angry with him, please."

Rowan wasn't sure what his sister had been expecting him to do, but his reaction seemed to have surprised her. "Well, finally," he had scoffed. "It's about time. This dance of yours has been exhausting. Thank you for coming to an agreement, at last."

Annad had stared at him flatly. "I said nothing," she had insisted.

"You said enough. And I'm not angry—in fact, I'm rather pleased. I have wagers to collect from several people, now. Including Bronden, who thinks she knows her apprentice so well. I'll collect enough to expand my garden, as I've been wanting to. Thank you, little sister, thank you so much."

The blonde woman had been in a huffy mood afterwards. But she had stayed for more than an hour, sharing news and a pot of tea with her brother and sister-in-law. In spite of her mood, she had been slow to finally leave their house and return to her own work. She was busy this season training a new, small class of youngsters, only five strong, and one of them was hardly strong at all. But she had equipped this one odd little girl with a dagger, and the child was showing a little skill at it. With time and training, Annad hoped the girl would be strong enough for a short sword, or perhaps a whip.

"If she grows to favor a whip, I shall have to send her to you, brother," she had said as she finally left. "I'm at home with blades of all kinds, but whips have always felt clumsy in my hands. Your strength has always been in your hands, and so the weapon has always suited you much better; it's the only weapon you've ever been great or even good with."

Rowan and Zeel had waved after her, glad that she enjoyed her work. Annad was a grown woman, closer now to thirty than twenty, and she lived an unusually unsettled adult life. She still lived with her parents, mostly; she insisted that it pleased her mother, and was good for her little sister for her to be so close by. Half the nights of the week, however, she ended up sleeping at her brother's house. It seemed to the people that she lived like a nomad, in and out of her family's attics, because she had no house of her own and no husband to provide one. And it didn't seem to bother her one speck. In fact, she almost seemed to revel in her freedom.

It was really just like her. She was taller and fiercer than she once was, but she hadn't changed a bit.

That had been four days earlier. In those four days, the husband and wife had been slowly tidying their house once again. Hopefully, once the floors were swept, and the stove was scrubbed clean, and the dishes were all washed, Star would come home and never realize that the house had fallen into such disarray. It wouldn't do for her to think that such a thing was permissible.

Now it was late in the evening of the fourth day. They had thought of journeying into the hills for one last late night of wandering, but had decided against it. Zeel had decided that the night was too chilly, and the journey would have been unpleasant for her. Also, she wished to start rising early again, and had a long list of things to do in the morning. And so they had instead shared some of her newly made mead, and gone to bed a little earlier than they had been. It was uneventful, but they were sure to be glad of it later.

"You seem tense," she commented as she curled up beside him. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I don't think so," he answered, raising his hand to touch the Earth sigil. "It's another day closer to seeing our daughter again. I'm just excited, I suppose."

She smiled and closed her eyes. "Then get to sleep, so another day can dawn and pass quickly. I'm excited, too."

Rowan wanted to sleep, but it wasn't coming easily for some reason. He briefly reflected on his life, and how it couldn't possibly be better. For all that he was a Titan with tremendous power, his life was settled and happy, more so than he had ever dreamed it could be. His daughter was on her way home. His wife was asleep at his side. His best friend and beloved sister were thinking to be married in the coming year. His village was alive and safe, and prosperous. His life was nearly perfect. The only thing that could have made it more perfect would have been having his father alive to see it all.

So what was keeping him awake? He felt worry clouding his mind for what seemed no reason at all. He gripped the sigil and closed his eyes.

 _Please tell me, my friend. What is coming? What is about to happen?_

Instinctively, he braced himself for burning pain and whispered words, and the alarm it would cause his wife. He waited for long moments, but nothing happened. The medallion of gold remained cool in his hand, as ordinary and lifeless as a useless trinket.

 _Then it is nothing,_ he assured himself. _If there was a real reason to be worried, the sigil would have told me so. I really am just excited to see Star, and there is nothing to fear. Nothing at all._

He forced the worry from his mind, forced himself to relax, so he could sleep. Life would go on in the morning, and he would need all the energy he could get.

2222222222

A sudden noise broke through his restful but dreamless sleep. Rowan's eyes flew open at once, though he remained utterly still in his bed. For a strange, sickening moment, it was like reliving the darkest parts of his adventures. Every muscle in his body reflexively tensed, braced for action. He strained to listen for sound, trying to hear the noise that had woken him.

The noise didn't come again, but with a start he realized what it had been. It was the jingling of a brass bell hung above the backdoor. During the day, it would have said that a patient, or perhaps a sister, had come to see him. During the latest hours of the night, it could only signal an intruder.

Beside him, Zeel was also tense. She was wide awake, urgently gripping his arm with one hand, and slowly reaching beneath her pillow with the other for the dagger she kept hidden there. He knew that she was listening just as intently as he was. And she was taking no chances.

A sharp creaking sound reached their ears. It was the sound of a loose floorboard, only yards from their bedroom door, being unwittingly stepped on and then backed off of in surprise.

Zeel's grip on his arm tightened.

"Someone is in the house," she whispered needlessly through gritted teeth.

"Be ready," he whispered back.

He felt more than saw her nod of agreement. They parted and slid out of their bed like shadows, not making a sound. She had pulled the long blade from under her pillow, casting its sheath aside so the metal glinted clearly in the dimness. He took up his whip, rarely ever used, coiled on the small table beside the bed. Armed and ready to face the frightening unknown together, they moved silently to the door.

Another door down the hallway was being opened—they could hear the hinges creaking slightly. They could hear muffled whispering, and the sound of that door being closed again. There were two or three intruders, at least. Rowan wondered furiously who they were, and what they could want.

 _Robbers, who believe me to be rich as well as odd,_ he decided grimly. _Or perhaps a parcel of older children, on a dare from some of their friends. Well, it doesn't matter. It's been years since we've had to deal with ruffians like this, but we can do it again. I doubt they can surprise us._

 _We can surprise them, however. They don't know where we are yet; but we can easily guess where they are, even though the door is closed. There aren't many doors in this house, and very few places for so many people to hide. Whoever it is, we will catch them, for sure._

He was far from afraid. All the same, the intrusion was alarming. And for some reason, he felt dread creeping into his bones. Something was stirring in the air. Something menacing and terribly familiar. But he couldn't quite place the feeling, and it alarmed him even more.

They took their positions on either side of the closed door, flattening themselves against the wall and holding their weapons at the ready. A troop of soft footsteps was making its way down the hall. Another second or two, and the door would ease open. Any second….

The doorknob began to turn, cautiously slow. With the same slight creaking sound, the door began to open. Standing against the wall, they couldn't see who had opened it. The dark shape of a head and a broad pair of shoulders leaned into their view, just silhouetted by moonlight.

"Nothing here," whispered a voice, as the shape retreated.

"Then search the attic," came a gruff, whispered answer. "She is here. She _must_ be. I can sense it."

That was as good a queue as any. As one, the husband and wife raised their weapons and spun out into the hall—directly into a battle they hadn't expected in the slightest.

The following minutes of fighting passed in a blur of twisting bodies, flashing blades, and darkness, which Rowan spent the rest of his life unable to make sense of. The attack they had stumbled into instantly made him aware of several things at once.

First of all, there were far more than two or three intruders; he could feel the swirling energies of at least ten strangers, all of them tall, armed, and somehow pulsing with unexplainable power.

Second, he was woefully outnumbered, and would certainly need magic if he was going to keep himself and his wife safe from these people.

Third, a sudden cry of pain, a triumphant shout from Zeel, and a door slamming shut somewhere down the hall.

And finally, a chill of pure terror, as he silently screamed to the sigil for help, and it gave no answer.

They spent what seemed an agonizingly long time battling the small army of invaders, trying their best to fend them off. But they had never stood a chance against so many. Rowan quickly felt two pairs of powerful arms take hold of his own, felt his whip yanked out of his hand, and found himself being dragged toward the backdoor. He struggled with all his might, but the hands that held him were far stronger than his own, and there was no hope of escaping them. Behind him, Zeel was also being dragged away, struggling just as vainly against her own captors.

"Quiet down," a woman's voice snarled in his ear. "Not another sound out of you, you hear me? We're not above slitting a few throats, if we have to."

Every instinct in his body ached to scream for help. The carpentry was only down the lane; surely, his friends would hear, and they would come. However, the instinct to protect his wife was overwhelming. People would look on it later as dreadful weakness of will. For now, with so many enemies pressed around him, he couldn't believe that a call for help would be worth the risk. He continued to struggle every step of the way, but he didn't make another sound.

"Zane, Rita, wait," someone commanded. "Not another step. If we let the Titan surround himself with raw earth, we won't stand a chance. Just take the woman outside. And someone get us some light, already."

Rowan was pulled to halt and then to the side, as his two captors—Zane and Rita—made way for Zeel to be hauled kicking and screaming outside. He could feel panic radiating off of her like heat, even though he could barely see her. He struggled desperately to reach for her, but he was held too tightly. She was ripped painfully from his reach. The terror was enough to bring tears to his eyes.

He abandoned his warning to be silent. "Let her go," he begged as loudly as he dared. "Whatever it is you want from us, I'll give it to you! Take me if you must—just let her go!"

A reddish-yellow light flared up, illuminating their attackers for the first time. Every one of them was tall and straight as a watchtower, all dressed in uniforms of steel gray and black. They were all dark-skinned and dark-haired, and might have been easily mistaken for Travelers…

If only for the black mark they all bore, running in a cruel streak from their hairlines to the tips of their noses. Rowan gaped at them in shock, his eyes widening in speechless horror.

Their attackers were all Zebak.

The closest to him was a man his own height, the gold emblem on his jacket marking him as a high-ranking officer, most likely the leader. His eyes were pale violet, and might have been quite beautiful if they hadn't been clouded by so many thoughts and emotions. Beside him, a slightly shorter woman stood at ridged attention, holding what looked like a blazing ball of fire in her left hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Rowan couldn't help but marvel briefly at this; but mainly, his horrified gaze was locked on the violet-eyed leader.

"There is nothing you can give us, now," the man stated plainly, almost unhappily. "We've already claimed what we came for."

His eyes flicked away, and he gave a slight nod. "Zane, deal with him."

"As you wish, Zamiel," came the grim, reluctant reply.

A splitting pain hit his head like a thunderbolt, and dots of light danced across his eyes. He felt himself falling to his knees. He heard his name being screamed, but it was already far distant. The world went dark once again, and he knew no more.


	10. Chapter 10: Shocks

Dun-dun- _DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!11_

I'm looking forward to you meeting this OC, as I have put a lot of thought and work into him. Never mind the parallels between him and prince Zuko….. This whole arc is eerily similar to ATLA, for some odd reason. But I swear, I came up with the magic system WAAAAAY before I knew that Avatar was a thing that existed. :/

Bottom line: ELEMENTZ

Also, it seemed like the story had gone on for far too long without a chapter entitled…

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 _Chapter 10: Shocks_

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Rowan woke to faraway voices calling his name. His head was pounding, and his eyelids seemed pinned shut. He had to force them open, and let his vision focus slowly on the two faces hovering over his own.

It was Norriss and Annad, both their faces tight and pale with concern. His sister had his head cradled in her lap, and she was gently shaking him, trying to wake him. His brother knelt beside them, waiting patiently for him to come around; but his normally serious eyes were dark with fear and confusion.

He felt dizzy and sick. He had been lying unconscious on the floor by the backdoor, and he couldn't remember how he had gotten there. All he could remember was a mass of twisting shadows, a blaze of light, and a sudden bolt of blinding pain behind his eyes.

Seeing his eyes finally opening, Annad gave an enormous sigh of relief. "Finally, you're awake," she said, halfway between greeting and scolding, sounding very much like their mother. "Rowan, what on earth happened here last night? Where's Zeel?"

Her voice suddenly sounded much louder and closer than it had before, and it made him wince slightly. All he could do was mumble vaguely, because he wasn't prepared to answer so many questions he couldn't remember the answers to. He couldn't quite remember anything that had happened.

Seeing his obvious confusion, Norriss shook his head grimly. "Annad found you this way, about an hour ago," he explained slowly. "The backdoor was just hanging open; and you were unconscious, with a decent lump on the back of your head. There are signs of a struggle all over the house—your whip was lying in the middle of the floor, along with a couple of blades, and there are slashes on the walls that look far from accidental. And…"

It was unlike Norriss to falter, but he had to pause and take a deep breath before continuing. "Rowan, we can't find Zeel. We've searched the house, inside and out; Shaaran and Bronden went and searched the village, but we simply can't find her anywhere. Tell us where she is. You must know where she is."

The mention of it brought an onslaught of terrible understanding. Memories came rushing back from the night before, like a waking nightmare. Gray uniforms. Striped faces. Pale violet eyes locked on his own. A stern woman casually holding a ball of fire in her hand. Zeel's voice shouting his name in desperation. Another voice, just barely holding back a tone of regret.

 _There is nothing you can give us, now. We've already claimed what we came for._

It felt as though fire and ice had gripped his heart. Panic rose in him, and he jumped up without a word to his family. He darted out into the yard, with only one thought on his mind:

He had to do something. Anything. He had no idea what he was doing, but his wife was in terrible danger. He had to do _something_. He would simply follow them into the hills, chase them down, and rescue her. Their leader had been right—with so much wide, open earth at his command, that small army wouldn't stand a chance. And he was certain that those ten Zebak invaders had come by land, somehow; if they had come by air, they would have been struck down by the Dragon long before they had reached his house.

All he had to do was pick up their trail, reach into the earth with his magic, and find where they were. It was a perfectly simple plan. It was a sensible plan. For all that it was completely reckless and had been formed in a split-second's panic, it was a good plan.

But there was no trail to pick up. The dust and dry grass had been trampled by heavy boots, but the prints ended abruptly halfway across the yard. It was as if the invaders had appeared out of nowhere to begin with, and had vanished right back into thin air.

And it was horrifically clear that Zeel had vanished right along with them.

 _We've already claimed what we came for._

Panic ebbed away. Cold understanding and deep despair quickly took its place. He crumpled to his knees, unable to hold himself up. A wail of anguish sprang up from his broken heart, and he didn't even think of trying to hold it back.

All around him, it seemed that the dried grass withered just a little more.

 _I've failed her,_ he thought numbly. _I was standing right there, with all the power in the world to stop this, and I could do nothing. How could I have not known this was coming? How could the sigil refuse to answer me, when I clearly needed it so badly? How could this have happened?_

 _What am I going to tell Star...?_

"…Rowan?"

Annad was speaking again, slightly hesitant, but unquestioning. And, strangely, she didn't sound surprised. In fact, it sounded as if his actions had only confirmed something to her.

"There was… Well, while we were searching the house, we did find something… You may want to come see this."

Rowan was beyond feeling. If he felt anything, he felt cold and empty. He couldn't even bring himself to feel fear, or interest in what his sister had found. The only reason he followed her was because Norriss had come and gently hauled him to his feet. He was steered back into the house, with the odd, familiar sensation of being in a terrible dream.

Annad was waiting for them by the last door in the hallway, her expression strange and unnamable. It was the least interesting door in the whole house. All it led to was a coat closet. The only things inside it were the family's heavy winter coats and boots, put away until snow began to fall.

"Listen," Annad said in a low voice, speaking slowly for her brother. "When I open this door, _do not_ lose your temper. Swear it to me."

He couldn't even think of words to answer with. All he could really do was stare blankly past her, at nothing in particular. Norriss' grip on his shoulders was the only reason he was still standing upright.

"Annad, I don't think he has the presence of mind to swear anything in particular," the taller man pointed out. "Just open the door. The sooner we get this behind us, the better."

She bit her lip nervously as she opened the closet door, revealing a sight that rekindled a little of her brother's feeling.

A stripe-faced young man in a steel gray uniform was kneeling on the floor inside the closet, bound hand and foot, his shaggy head bowed in defeat. As the door opened, he started and looked up. His face was vaguely familiar, but his eyes were instantly recognizable. They were the same pale violet as the leader's had been. Only instead of flashing with many ideas and emotions, the boy's eyes were wide and dark with fear.

Annad and Norriss, he plainly recognized. Seeing Rowan for the first time, though, he cringed and made a small whimpering noise, even more afraid than before.

Another memory came back: a cry of pain. A shout of triumph. A door slamming shut. Rowan could see how it must have happened, as if there had been plenty of light to see by. Zeel had tackled this boy last night. She had knocked him out, and thrown him aside—into the coat closet, where his unconscious body would be out of the way. And there he had remained until just a little while ago, when he had woken to find that his teammates had left him behind, at the mercy of their sworn enemies.

Rowan suddenly felt as though a furnace had been lit in his belly. He could feel searing hot rage flowing in his blood. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so furious with anyone for anything. Suddenly, all he wanted to do was strangle this young man to death. If he couldn't rescue his wife, he could certainly avenge her loss.

Norriss could feel it too, and his grip tightened as his friend began to struggle.

"Rowan, stay calm—"

"No! You let go of me! Let me teach this monster a lesson," he shouted back, fighting all the harder for freedom.

"You're not teaching anyone anything, and that's that," Norriss snapped back, his tone amazingly even. "Annad, shut the door. We need this kid alive."

She wordlessly did as she was told, shutting their terrified prisoner away from her raging brother.

" _Alive_?" he thundered. "They kidnapped my wife! It's all his fault!"

Norris pulled him away and shook him hard.

"Rowan, stop this! You're not thinking clearly. He's only one boy—little more than a child. What he was doing in an entire team of adults, I have no idea. By all rights, he isn't even supposed to be here. How could any of this be _his_ fault?"

Rowan was still furious, but his friend's words made sense. No one knew more of the Zebak and their ways than Norriss did, after all. The murderous rage began to subside, and he forced himself to be calm, and just listen.

"It isn't like Central Control to send clumsy, untrained children to do a skilled officer's work," Norriss continued. "Either this team has done something quite illegal, or their practices have changed dramatically from what I remember. Something very strange is going on elsewhere in the world. Whatever it is, Zeel has been swept into the middle of it; and we have been swept along with her. This young man has been compliant enough, so far. I think he can help us."

Behind him, Annad had set her lips in a firm line, biting her tongue. She looked dubious. In his current mood, Rowan had to share his sister's feelings. At the same time, Norriss had the right idea. As long as the boy was trapped with them, the least they could do was try to drill him for information.

He looked at his friend's grimly set face and stormy eyes. Norriss was being practical, looking for something productive to do, because that was how he always faced moments of trouble. On the inside, though, his own heart was broken, too. He was afraid for the woman he loved like a sister, and angry with the people who had abducted her so easily. But he could never let it show on his face. All he could do was try to hide it, and try to move forward.

"I never said I trust the boy," he growled. "I don't like him any more than you do. In fact, I'd like to punch him in the face. But if he's alive and whole, we will get far more use out of him. Knowledge is our best weapon right now. We should use it."

Rowan took a deep breath, forcing all his passionate feelings out of the way, leaving room only for practicality. He straightened himself and squared his shoulders, forming a new plan. He had always been the one with a plan.

"You're right," he admitted. "We should use it. I imagine my stepfather is unaware of this yet."

"We've been here with you the whole time. No one knows of this boy but the three of us."

"Then I will go see him, once I'm dressed. Then, we need to summon the village for a meeting."

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Less than an hour later, the entire village had gathered in the square; and every pair of eyes was fixed in horrified fascination on the prisoner, held fast before them between Annad and Norriss. The Zebak boy was trembling where he stood, which was almost comic to see. Even though he was clearly afraid, he still stood with dignity, unashamed of who he was. The people might have thought him noble, if they hadn't been so disgusted by him.

John and Rowan stood before them, also, facing the crowd together. A more unlikely pair of authority figures, the village had never seen before. One to lead their heads, and one to lead their hearts. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that they would get to the bottom of the whole mess.

The boy never kept his eyes in one place for too long; there was too much to look at, too much to be aware of. Mostly, his violet eyes darted back and forth between his two captors, as he regarded them with apprehension and a kind of confused awe. Once or twice, they had slid in Rowan's direction; but as soon as the Titan noticed, the boy would look away again, eyes suddenly full of shame.

 _No doubt he has heard tales of us in the past,_ Rowan considered. _He has probably been trained from babyhood to despise us, personally. Now Annad is his captor, and he has no idea what to think._

"My friends," John said loudly, facing the crowd, "we are here this morning to address a very grave matter. It brings me no pleasure to inform you that our village was invaded last night, and that one of our own has been taken from us."

Fearful murmuring began rippling through the crowd at once, threatening to rise to a roar of outrage. John continued quickly, before that could happen.

"It seems, however, that we have taken a prisoner of our own. This boy was found this morning, abandoned by his men. So far, he has come along quietly. We hope he is willing to share the purpose behind this mission with us all. If not… We will deal with it quietly, and orderly."

He turned a cold eye on the boy. "We will get what we want from you, one way or another," he growled. "Are you willing, or will you force us to be creative?"

The boy ducked his head a bit, but faced John squarely. "Yes, sir," he answered, just loud enough to be heard.

"It is a trick!" someone shouted. "He will spite us by feeding us lies!"

"I'll be the judge of that," Rowan answered, and also turned to the prisoner. "We're going to ask you again, boy: are you willing? And think carefully about your answer this time."

The boy let his eyes drift to the cobbled street. "Yes, I am willing," he answered, his voice hushed.

The two leaders exchanged a glance. The boy had answered their question; and as far as Rowan could tell, he had been sincere.

"Very well, then," John said at last. "You can begin by telling us your name."

The boy suddenly looked up and stood at attention, his face and voice totally expressionless.

"Unwilling servant of the Dragon Lord, may her reign last a thousand years; property of his lordship, Zared Azan, commander of her majesty's legions, may his command be long and prosperous; second-class officer of the Night Watch; tenth member of squadron designated C-57; Garased, Zan."

He finished, and his whole body relaxed slightly. John and Rowan looked at him in surprise. The boy hadn't so much answered them, as he had responded to a command in the way he had been trained.

"That is quite a name, long and complicated, perhaps for a complicated young man," John said slowly, a bit impatiently. "Tell us the parts that your parents gave you, then."

For a split second, the boy looked slightly terrified. He swallowed hard, courageously keeping eye contact with them.

"I am Zan, youngest son of the Garased family," he answered. The words came haltingly, as if he was unused to just being asked for his name, rather than his long title, and couldn't believe that someone wanted to know it.

True to his nature, John didn't pause to think about this.

"You and your men stormed into one of our homes last night, and abducted one of our people. Why?"

Zan looked like he wanted to scoff, but wisely did not. "We came to reclaim one of _our_ people, who had clearly been misplaced," he answered.

"What were your orders?"

"I don't know," Zan said lamely. "I'm only a second-class officer. They don't tell me much. All I knew was that a woman had been found, far off in the west, and that she was to be brought home. My squad was chosen, so we went."

John made a face. "How did you know she was here?"

"The Queen has… powers. All the Zebak are bound by blood. The Queen sent out an order to our spies, summoning them home from their posts, and all of them answered. But when she looked, she found that someone hadn't answered the call, or something. It's complicated. I don't know."

"She summoned all her spies back? Why?"

"All I know is that our city is being flooded with people returning from their missions, and it's becoming a bother. Why one extra person should matter so much is beyond me."

"You're one to talk, boy."

Zan was indignantly silent.

Rowan paused, watching him. The boy was clearly holding something back. Though perhaps not to spite them. He was simply following orders, as he had done all his life. While he could hardly be blamed for that, there was no time or space for it.

"Your queen can't reach you here," he said. "If there's something you'd like to reveal to us, you should think about doing so now. We're not the most patient people on the best days. Don't test us today."

Zan looked down at the ground again, avoiding the Titan's glare.

"Look at me!"

The boy's head snapped up, immediately obedient. He was forcing himself to look up, return Rowan's gaze, and was doing so courageously. He looked chilled to the bone.

"Be honest. Your men took my wife from me. The least you could do is tell me the truth of why it was done."

This time, Zan allowed himself the scoff he had been biting back. "Honest? You want me to be honest? You won't like it. You won't even believe me."

Rowan leaned dangerously close to him.

"Try me. Now tell me what your mission really was. And please, do not lie to me."

Zan swallowed hard, and took a deep breath. "A report was sent out from Central last week. All of our spies had returned and been accounted for—100 men and women in all, as all the records showed. But the Queen sensed that someone was still missing. She looked into it and discovered a spare. Someone who was still in the west, who hadn't been sent. She drew a lottery of her generals, and my commander was chosen. She gave him orders to select a squadron from his legions, who would go and bring this missing person back. For whatever reason, he chose mine, C-57."

"And your orders were?"

"Just to find the missing person and bring them back, by whatever means we felt necessary."

Rowan began to pace, suddenly overwhelmed with questions. "And was your squad aware that this missing person was married to the Earth Titan?"

"No, we never dreamed of it," Zan answered hurriedly. "If we had known before hand—"

"Your leader certainly seemed aware of it."

"It was obvious, after we looked around. And we could feel it. There was no way to mistake it. Her majesty is… Like you, in some ways."

Rowan stifled a groan. "Yes, I know," he murmured. Raising his voice, he continued, "I imagine she used that to her advantage."

"I don't understand what you mean, sir."

"Then let me clarify, because there are a couple of things puzzling me about your being here. For example, my talisman, which always warns me of coming danger, never once hinted at your coming. Why do you suppose that might be, Zan?"

The boy gaped at him and desperately shook his head.

"My guess is that your queen used some kind of magic with your squad. Did she do anything unusual, before you left? Perhaps something she spoke of as a spell?"

"The ten of us were summoned personally to her throne last night, just before we were sent," he said slowly, carefully thinking back. "It's a rare honor for any normal officer, if you could call it that… She said that she had cloaked us, made us undetectable to the Titans—invisible, she said."

Rowan bowed his head and gripped the sigil around his neck. He had raged at it before, thinking it had abandoned him for some reason. Now he understood. There had been danger, after all. The sigil most certainly would have warned him of it; if it had been able to see it. Even while he had been attacked and overwhelmed, the sigil had been unable to sense the ten cloaked, invisible warriors right in front of it.

A dirty, underhanded trick, indeed.

"Here is another question for you, Zan. Your squad clearly didn't walk all the way to this village, nor did you fly. If you had done either, none of you would have lived to complete your mission. So explain how you were able to come and go so conveniently."

"I'm telling you, you're never going to believe me."

"And I'm telling you, try me. Now explain."

Zan squeezed his eyes shut, shivered, and mumbled his answer. "We were….. Teleported."

Rowan stopped pacing to stare at the boy, not surprised in the slightest, but curious in spite of himself. "Teleported? How is that?"

"The whole thing was done by magic," Zan blurted out, trying desperately to explain himself. "She ordered us to clear our minds, to think of nothing at all. Then she snapped her fingers, and we were just… _Gone_. We were here, in your village, in your backyard, as she had promised we would be. I can't explain how she does it, but… You think I'm lying, but I'm not! I swear it!"

"Do not yell at me," Rowan snapped back. "Of course you're telling the truth. I'm not blind."

"You actually believe me?"

Rowan's gaze was cold. "For the moment."

Zan sighed and shook his head with a grimace. "Look," he said, "I'm sorry. I'm sincerely sorry. I didn't ask for this to happen. I didn't even want to do this. None of us did."

"Yet you did it."

"We belong to Central Control; and more importantly, we belong to the Dragon Lord. It's not like we had much of a choice. We do as we're told. That's our only job. That's the only reason we're even alive."

"Why wouldn't you want to go through with this mission? By all accounts, you should be pleased to have one of your sisters back."

Zan scoffed again, a little louder this time. "She was one of the lucky few. One in ten thousand Zebak have the chance of escaping so perfectly. Escape has always been so difficult, so dangerous, so rarely blessed with success; and these days, it's even worse. But she, at least, was free. How could we _want_ to drag her away from that? Not all of us are cruel, hard-hearted monsters, you know."

Rowan bit his lip, thinking that declaration over for a moment. It was a fact that he was well aware of. How many times in the past had his friends insisted that the Zebak weren't all bad, but generally quite good? In their own escape, 18 years earlier, they had left life-long friends and guardians behind, in a situation that could only be described as slavery.

In his anger and shock, he had conveniently forgotten it. The gathered people knew very little of it, or refused to hear of it at all. John knew of it very well, but had no time to care in this moment.

"So, you claim to be one of the 'good ones', do you?" the big man demanded.

Zan shrugged faintly. "I suppose. I've never done anything particularly terrible."

"And your team had no great desire to go on this mission?"

"No, sir. It grieved us all to have to do it."

"But you had the choice," John pointed out, his tone icy and full of disgust. "You might have chosen not to go through with it, but you did it anyway. You came here knowingly bearing us ill will, and you caused us pain deliberately. A person could well argue that this _does_ , in fact, make you a monster."

"No. There was no choice," Zan said bitterly. "The Queen will not stand defiance from her officers. The rebellion of one is the rebellion of all. All ten of us would have been put to death—or worse. Being the Queen's personal property is no pride or joy, but it beats the fields, or the salt mines. At least we are fed, and housed, and our families are cared for."

"Is a little rebellion not worth the risk? Does the chance to stand up for yourselves mean so little to you? Is your own life worth more than the life of an innocent? One might call that cowardly."

"You don't understand." Zan's voice was cracking, overflowing with emotions and desperation. "We are of Central Control—we can take anything she can throw at us. We don't care. But what of the people who depend on us? What of the people who count on us? The people who would be killed or enslaved right along with us? No, the risk is far too great."

He bowed his head, babbling on as much to himself as to the people. "Just think of them all. Ofelia. Misha. Nyoma—poor Nyoma, who is ill, and has three small children with Zane. The eldest of them is only eight years old. They wouldn't last a week in the salt mines. It is a death sentence! They're only children! How could we think of doing that to them?"

The whole crowd was regarding him with deep confusion. His words painted a picture so different from their own, it was unbearably uncomfortable. These people had come with such a dark purpose only because they had been forced to, knowing that the people they loved would pay just as steeply and unfairly for any sort of failure to follow orders.

The idea of the Zebak being able to even feel love was ridiculous to the people of Rin. The idea of them feeling fear was almost comic, reserved for moments when they truly deserved it—such as the instance many years ago, when their invading fleet of fighting grach had been incinerated by the Dragon's jealous flame. It had definitely served them right to be so afraid, when they had been so proud and spiteful. That had been refreshing.

Seeing this stripe-faced young man trembling and humiliated had been refreshing, too. It had served him right to be left behind and captured, when he had wronged them so. Suddenly, though, it was hard to tell who had been wronged, exactly. Suddenly, rather than refreshing, it was just very awkward.

There was a whirlwind of varied ideas, feelings, questions, and solutions swirling through the minds of the people. Rowan could feel them all, like a storm wind in his face. Personally, he was reflecting on the words of Zan's long title. Unwilling servant of the Dragon Lord. Property of one of her commanders. May _they_ be successful. Second-class of his division. Tenth and lowest ranking member of his team.

And then, finally, his own name. It came with no details, no praise, and no mention of his potential or prosperity. It simply came last, very last, as if it were only an afterthought. As if it hardly even mattered.

It could all only mean one thing. Zan Garased may have been housed, fed, and provided for, because he was a member of Central Control. But that did little to excuse the fact that his life didn't really belong to him. His life and freedom were in someone else's hands.

Zan was a slave. A slave in fine clothes, with great skills, but a slave, all the same.

And that couldn't possibly bode well for Zeel.

"Tell me something," he said, breaking the heavily silence that had fallen. "What does your queen intend to do with my wife?"

Zan lifted his eyes again, slightly more used to being honest, even though it was painful for both of them.

"Her majesty will find a use for her, somehow. I couldn't begin to tell you where; it wasn't part of the assignment. Perhaps she will be angry, and send the woman to toil in the fields. Perhaps she will be sent into the workforce, to provide for the common folk. Or perhaps the Queen will be pleased and impressed, and grant her a place at court in exchange for her knowledge of this land. Many things could be done. All I can say with certainty is that if she can work in some way, she will be made in the name of the Queen to do it."

"She will be a slave, like you."

"Bound to serve for the remainder of her life. However long it lasts. No Zebak walks free, but the Dragon Lord. It has been so for thousands of years, and will be so for thousands more. There is no hope for any of us."

Rowan bowed his head, rubbed his hand over his face. Perhaps Zan had given up hope—perhaps he had never been allowed to hope in the first place. But there had to still be some, somewhere.

"I can tell you a little more, while I'm being so honest," Zan commented flatly. "It's no more pleasant than anything else I've had to say, but I think you deserve to know. If you dare to hear it, I will tell you gladly."

"Gladly?"

Zan shrugged again, smirking spitefully. "This is the first time I've been so free in my life. I'll tell you anything you wish to know. No one's stopping me."

"…Very well, then. What do you have to say?"

"You speak of this woman as your wife. It's only fair to warn you, then, that the Queen will never recognize it. If she didn't authorize it and sign the records herself, then it didn't happen. As long as anything can happen, I can't promise that your wife won't be forced into marriage with someone else, of her majesty's choosing. She may find it a worthwhile idea. She could use the fruits of that union to her advantage. And it is a favorite pastime of hers, to deliberately pair her officers with people we will dislike, as punishment for nothing in particular."

Zan had been right. That was a horrifically unpleasant idea. And somehow, it was unsurprising.

"On that note, about the child…"

"What child?"

"Your child. The one whose mother is obviously your wife. The one whose room in your house is empty. I don't know where that child is, but be glad he or she wasn't there last night. If there is one thing the Dragon Lord will never tolerate, it is our people mixing their blood with others. Orders stand at all times that any half-bred children we may find are to be destroyed immediately."

Zan paused for a moment, letting the knowledge sink in. Rowan was slightly stunned at what a near thing it was, and how much more terrible the situation could have been. If squad C-57 had been sent only a few days later, Star would have been home. She would have perhaps been home for only a day, or mere hours. She would have been asleep in her bed, happy to be home at last, completely unsuspecting. She would have been slaughtered mercilessly, without a chance to defend herself.

He felt a stab of guilt. How he had longed for her to stay at home, where he thought she would be safe. Where he thought he could have protected her from harm. If he had gotten his way, Star would be dead right now.

"I might not have told you these things before," Zan was continuing, "because you never asked; but no one is here to punish me, and you have begged me to be honest. And, frankly, I think you have a right to know it. I'm sincerely sorry this had to happen. It broke all our hearts to have to go through with this. It's not like we didn't try—we spent days trying to find a way out of this assignment. Zirita spent two of them weeping over the whole thing; we thought she was going to die of sheer despair.

"But then she looked at those three little kids, who need their father alive to protect them, and it made her strong again. We hated having to tear a family apart this way, but we have families of our own. We have to think of them first, because that's what families do. Look me in the eye and tell me you would have done any differently."

Angry murmuring and shouts of outrage rose from the crowd. Zan had been bold in his words. A little too bold. The people of Rin liked to think that they would always do the right thing, no matter the cost. Honor and duty were two virtues they held most highly. His challenge was infuriating to them all.

But Rowan returned the boy's gaze, steadily, grimly, and honestly. He also liked to think that he would have done the right thing, and spared an innocent family such awful tragedy. He had experienced so much tragedy over his life; causing it for someone else was a thing he would never consider doing. However, in his heart, he knew that Zan was right. If he had been put to the same test, with Zeel and Star hanging in the balance, he would done the same. He would not have liked it, and he never would have fully forgiven himself, but he would have done it.

Because, as Zan had said, he had to put them first. He was their husband and father, and it was his duty to protect them at any cost.

Beside him, John was silent, staring stonily at the ground. He was considering the challenge also, and thinking of his own family. The family he had waited and fought so long for, and sacrificed so much for. Perhaps, even now, he was feeling a grain of sympathy for Zane—the man who had held his stepson hostage and knocked him unconscious, while his beloved daughter-in-law was hauled away into slavery. The man who had done so with a heavy heart, fearing all the while for his sick wife and his own three children, who would have paid a bitter price for his rebellion.

Neither of them felt the outrage of the crowd. Mostly, they felt humbled and vaguely shamed.

"Don't listen to him, Rowan," someone shouted. "He's using your soft heart and weak will against you! Resist him, for the love of all things!"

Rowan spun around and quickly matched the voice to a face. It was Anson, Bree and Hanna's oldest son, who had once tormented him by pushing slugs in his face. They had never gotten along as boys; they generally got along even less, now that they were men. Rowan silenced him with a glare, peeved that he would present himself as if he had anything of value to say.

"Be silent, Anson," he snapped. "Stop babbling about things you refuse to understand. In any case, the boy has told the truth, and nothing but the truth."

"You can't mean to say you trust him!"

"I never said that. I wouldn't trust him any further than I could throw him, which you know well is not far at all. All I said is that he has told the truth. He's told us everything we asked of him, and more. There is great value in what he's shared with us. And he hasn't resisted us once; that, too, is useful."

Anson glared back, angered that someone he despised so much had such authority over him. He cleared his throat and said in a more level voice, "I have a question for you, now, and I believe I speak for all of us. If he's so valuable and useful, what do you intend to do with him now? You've gotten what you wanted from him for the moment. Do you intend to let him walk freely among us until you need him again?"

"Of course not. I may be an oddity, but I'm not stupid." Rowan turned away, staunchly ignoring the other man, and faced John instead. "I do think we'll be needing this boy again, though. There is still much we could learn from him. And if his Dragon Lord can teleport people to and from our village at will, his insights would make us better prepared for it. If all else fails, having a hostage could be an advantage."

John shook his head. "You think to keep him here, and alive, then," he guessed.

"For the time being, yes."

"The people will care little for that. They would sooner have him dead; there will be no peace in our village, knowing that a live Zebak warrior is lurking somewhere."

"The things he can share with us may be worth a little uncertainty. There are worse things than being uncomfortable."

"Unless you presume to guard him with your own eyes at every hour, I doubt they would agree to such a thing."

"We will keep him in the jailhouse. There is only one way in or out of it, and the door is guarded at all times. Someone who hates and fears him will guard him better than someone who is interested in him, after all. And if I recall my history lessons properly, Zebak hostages have been kept well there in the past, during the Plains War. The only way he could escape is if someone let him out. Who among us would do something so insane?"

John looked up at the crowd, which was now milling quietly, listening to their debate. They both had valid points. Keeping Zan as a live prisoner could be dangerous; but his knowledge had the potential to save them. Rowan's proposition seemed to the people a reasonable middle ground. If the boy were locked in an inescapable cell, under constant supervision, unable to disrupt their lives until he was summoned, perhaps it would be worthwhile.

Hearing no protests, John nodded slowly.

"So be it, then. Norriss and Annad, take the boy to the jailhouse. Secure him and return with all speed. We have much to discuss, still."

The two warriors nodded back, and began to lead Zan away. All they had to do was pull him gently; he followed without a struggle, almost tamely. He looked over his shoulder only once and gave the crowd a rueful smile.

"Still beats the salt mines," he called after them. "I'd rather rot in a jail cell any day."

Rowan was still angry, but he couldn't help but feel bad for the boy. At this hour yesterday, he had been a slave. Now he was the prisoner of his people's most hated enemy, and still being argued over like a piece of meat and dragged around like a sack of flour. Like an object, which couldn't think for itself, or respond in any way. But at least his enemies weren't allowed to beat him for speaking his mind, and that was more freedom than he had ever tasted before.

His life and his fate were still out of his hands, but he preferred it to being home. It would have been heartbreaking, if he hadn't already broken their hearts so badly.

He shook his head sharply, trying to force those feelings away. He had no time to feel sorry for the boy. Spending even a second feeling sorry seemed like a waste of time, when he had caused so much pain and trouble. It felt shameful to the memory of his best and oldest friend. He had to focus. He had to think of a plan.

There were a lot of things he had to think of. He hadn't expected the Dragon Lord to appear so suddenly in his life ever again. Yet here she was. She had reared her terrible head once more. It would be foolish and impossible to ignore her now, and what her appearance meant for everyone.

He took a deep breath and let it go with a heavy sigh. There was a lot of explaining to do on his part.

"This meeting is adjourned," John was saying loudly to the crowd. "Go back to your work and carry on as best you can. There is little else to be done now, I'm afraid."

"Those of you who are my friends, please come with me," Rowan added, just as loudly. "As John said, there is indeed much more to discuss."

The crowd uneasily began to separate, as the people dispersed and cautiously went on their way. Only a few people remained, most of them having been nearby in the first place. They were all the usual people, faces he had known all his life, presences and personalities he knew he could rely on. Jiller. Shaaran. Bronden. Timon. Violet.

Not for the first time, he sorely wished that Lann was still with them. Dealing with this mess would have been difficult for her to do gracefully; but her insights and good sense would have been more valuable than gold.

 _We were always very different, and rarely saw eye to eye,_ he thought sadly _. Yet, in some ways, I have become very much like her. I've become a leader; and sometimes, a leader has to be cold, even ruthless. She would have been proud to see me today. I would give almost anything to have her support now…_

Soon, they were the only people left in the square. If the trading party had been back, the gathering would have been larger. It would have also been in even deeper mourning.

"Follow me to my house," he said to them. "I have to tell you some things."


	11. Chapter 11: Grave Explanations

_*From November, 2014..._

A bunch of things from the last chapter may have seemed a little ominous. If so, good. You've kept up with me so far. ;)

Also, I like to think that Shaaran, upon discovering that she can survive Death Mountain and swarms of Ice Creepers, decided that she was secretly a badass. And this inner badass doesn't have to come out often, but when it does… Even Bronden gets a little nervous.

Shaaran: "Hi! I'm Shaaran! I weigh 105 pounds, and paint silks for a living. Also, I will save your hateful ass by crying and being overly emotional. Problem?" 8D

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 _Chapter 11: Grave Explanations_

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Rowan led the procession back to his house in silence. There was much between them all to be said, but not a word was spoken. It wasn't until the modest house was in view that Violet finally broken the silence.

"Annad and Norris will be unhappy to have missed this," she commented quietly. "Should we not send someone for them?"

"That won't be necessary," Shaaran answered before Rowan could. "They will know where to find us, and they will come. They always do."

Rowan stole a glance at his friend, stalking determinedly at his side. The slim, frail woman had to trot to keep up with them, but she had grown used to this. Her normally expressive face was set and unreadable. Her willowy body was as rigid as a soldier's, and her nimble hands were clenched into fists. There were so many feelings battling within her; it was hard to tell which one she was feeling most strongly. Overwhelmingly, though, Rowan sensed disappointment and deep sadness.

He didn't have to wonder long at either.

There was another moment's silence, before Jiller raised her voice from the back of the line.

"Rowan, my son, why exactly are we keeping a Zebak guard locked in our jail? You say he may still serve a purpose, but I can't see it."

"It's simply the way it must be for now, mother," he called over his shoulder. "Even I must admit, the worst thing he's done was end up locked in my coat closet overnight. Zan Garased hasn't done anything really wrong, and has actually been quite helpful. But I haven't brought you all here to talk about Zan. I've brought you here to talk about… Someone else."

He reached the front door and opened it wide, letting the procession file into his kitchen one by one. Shaaran remained by his side, though, refusing to leave him completely alone when he needed support and comfort more than ever. Once the last of his other friends had gone inside, he looked down at her gravely.

"You know where this is going by now, don't you?"

"I do," she answered. "You knew it would come to light, eventually. I always said it was useless to delay it."

"I know, I know. I couldn't see the point, then, in worrying them over something they couldn't change. I thought I was protecting them."

"Protecting people isn't your job, Rowan. Serving people is your job. When you do things that aren't your job, you make a mess for yourself. We've discussed this many times. When are you going to learn sense?"

"Apparently, never," he answered, stepping aside as she went in. She rolled her eyes at him, frustrated with his stubbornness.

 _It's best that she focus on her annoyance with me,_ he decided. _It's as good a distraction as any from the sadness and fear in her heart. She has learned well to force a blank face, and I prefer that. If she began to weep now, I don't know if I could bear it._

He followed her inside, shutting the door behind him and locking it.

"I've asked you to join me because I know I can trust you with the information I'm about to share," he announced. "I'd rather it not be so, but I see no way to escape it."

"This is about all that babbling of magic and dragons, no doubt," Bronden grumbled, crossing her arms severely.

"I'm afraid so," he agreed. He dug in his pocket and pulled out a small, thick book, flipping to a page he had marked and holding the place with his thumb. "This is also about a woman I know in vague passing. A woman I had hoped to never encounter again."

"Who is she?" Timon asked slowly. Perhaps, clever as he was, he had already guessed.

Rowan took a deep breath. "Zadina is her name. She is the Titan of Fire. She is also the one Zan called Queen and Dragon Lord."

All of his companions gasped, their eyes wide with shock. All except for Shaaran, who mostly looked unimpressed.

"You _know_ her?" John demanded, sounding a bit angry. "How is this?"

"I've met her only once, briefly, several years ago, on the day she first came into her power and became queen. You well remember that day, though you may not realize it. It was that day when Sheba and I rose before dawn and sped to Maris on Unos' back. We returned that evening, as the sun was setting. You had asked us why we had done such a thing, so suddenly, without any warning; when we answered that it was all magical business, you left it at that and asked no more questions."

John and Jiller exchanged a look, thinking back and remembering.

"Yes, we remember now," she answered.

"Well, it was magical business, for certain. We had no desire to share the details with you, and you were uninterested; and really, it was better that way. A sudden, urgent call had woken us with a feeling like clashing symbols, summoning us to the east. Our brothers had felt the same call, and so we all went to meet. Because the Keeper can't leave his cavern, the four of us had to travel to him.

"We met at dawn, and the five of us linked minds, as we often do. This time, however, there was a new presence in our hive mind. That was Zadina, whose mind had been brought to ours by her talisman. Her power longs to become a part of ours, though she and her ancestors have struggled well against it. She came to greet us, all the same. Greet us, swear proudly to continue fighting against us, and attack us as best she could from afar."

"She attacked you?" Timon asked, curious in spite of himself.

"In our brains," Rowan clarified, tapping his temple. "Luckily, she could only do so much damage, because she was far away. If she had been with us physically, she might have killed me. She certainly tried. She recognized me, realized that I was the one who had invaded her city, and she lashed out with a vengeance. Sheba wasn't exactly safe, either. Even though a sea separated us, she hit the two of us hard enough to send us flying across the cavern. That was when our link to her was broken. We lost contact with her after that, and haven't heard from her since that day."

He recounted the story as simply as he could. It was still hard to believe at times that it had really happened, because it had been so fantastic and terrible. He and Sheba, Ogden and Mithren, and Doss had all pleaded with their wayward sister to give up her people's warlike ways, and join them permanently. It was to be the only chance they would have to do so. Instead, Zadina had laughed spitefully in their faces, and gone on to attack them with a horrible, malicious grin on her face.

Never would he forget that face. He recalled that Zadina was a beautiful woman. She was young, just his age, with fine features, flowing black hair, and eyes like perfect rubies. Somehow, her mark only made her more beautiful. It was part of who she was, and it highlighted her fine face. But the way those features had twisted with hatred and glee as she had turned on them had chilled him to the bone. It had removed all the beauty from her. Instead, she had been ugly and fearful to look upon.

"No wonder you didn't want to speak of it," Timon said thoughtfully. "I wouldn't have trusted anyone with the story, either."

"That was our thinking," Rowan agreed. "It only would have caused trouble, if we had made the whole truth known."

Bronden snorted. "I would have liked very much to hear of it," she stated. "All of us would have. I thought you had learned better by now than to hoard choice information to yourself, boy."

"It wasn't yours to know."

"Indeed! If you had told us that there was a Titan who calls herself Dragon Lord, who can teleport her own men into our village at will, we might have done something about it!"

"Exactly," he answered evenly, striding to the kitchen table. "If you people had known of this, your first reaction would have been to wage pointless war on her. And we can't do that. Part of the reason the Zebak hate us so is because they are taught to fear us. They are taught that _we_ are the warlike ones, constantly plotting to destroy _them_ ; and that if they don't wage war on us first, we will surely be their ruin. But we know that this isn't true. In the past, we have had the moral high ground. I can't let you compromise that based on anger and fear. It is almost all we have ever had."

"Well perhaps it is worth the risk to get our hands a little dirty. If we had attacked when she was younger and less experienced, we just might have stood a chance."

Rowan coolly stared down at her.

"Would you like to die in vain, only for our people to be enslaved once again?" He asked. "Because if we started a war of our own, that is the only possible outcome of it. Zadina would lay us to waste. We would gain nothing, and lose everything. We can't stand against her, Bronden. We simply can't, and we never could have."

Bronden scowled back at him. Then she glanced at Shaaran, who was still silent and annoyed.

"You seem to be taking this whole thing in stride," the stocky woman commented coldly. "Why so quiet?"

Shaaran sighed huffily. "I'm only wishing that he had told you of this sooner. I've told him before that he should think on it, now that the incident is so far behind us."

Bronden gawked at her. "You don't mean to say that you knew of this?"

Shaaran shrugged. "There are many things Rowan keeps from the people, purely out of wisdom; but between the four of us, there are very few secrets. Zeel knew of this from the moment he returned. My brother and I learned of it that night. We were unhappy, also, but no thought of war ever dared to cross our minds. We are sensible, that way. We agreed, then, that it was best to keep the knowledge between us four. However, as the years have gone by, I have begun to think differently. I've had a bad feeling that something terrible like this was bound to happen, if we waited long enough. Better the people be prepared, I said. But _someone_ has refused to think on it."

"The knowledge would do us little good, no matter how much time goes by," he insisted. "It would only be a burden to the people. They would only be anxious, knowing that a Titan bears us such ill will, and there's nothing we can do to stand against her. I know well what anxiety like that is like. It is exhausting. In this instance, it's better to keep that knowledge as close as possible. Inciting a war is the worst thing we could do now; and it is the first thing the people would do."

The gathering was silent, thinking this fact over. It was, indeed, the first thing they would have done. Perhaps proud, strong Bronden wanted to battle the Dragon Lord; but the rest of them didn't relish the thought. For all his power and even tone, Rowan was clearly terrified of her.

Violet cleared her throat and timidly raised her voice. "What is this book you have, Rowan?"

"Something I looked at before leaving to join the meeting. I had a few suspicions, and wanted to refresh my memory. Make sure I asked all the right questions of our captive before facing him, instead of rushing into the confrontation unprepared. Look at this, everyone."

He laid the book open on the table, and his friends all gathered around to look over his shoulder. The information on the page was neatly organized and thoughtfully written. They all immediately recognized it as Star's handwriting.

 _ **Element Fire**_

 _Element of Valor and Passion_

 _Burdened by the sin of Greed_

 _Strong against: Element Earth_

 _Weak against: Element Water_

 _High season: Autumn_

 _Low season: Spring_

 _Celestial Guide: Solaris_

 _Host Dragon: Heomiri_

 _Compass: South_

 _Metal: Iron_

 _Gemstone: Obsidian_

 _Flower: Rose_

 _Symbol: Star_

 _Element Fire is characterized by fierce passion and emotion. It is the most volatile of the elements, easily swayed for either good or evil. Fire burns with all-consuming purpose; it also bears the creating light that makes all life possible. It is often said, therefore, that Fire is symbolic of the far-reaching ends of the compass points—extremes so far apart from one another, but equally important. Whatever its motives, Fire possesses the sheer will to accomplish its goals._

 _Fire manifests its true power mostly in mental capabilities. These include but may not be limited to telepathy, hypnosis, mind-control, and teleportation. Element Fire also has the capability of unveiling anything cloaked or hidden by the power of Element Earth, which is weak against it._

 _It is argued that these very potent abilities can be sourced to the Dragon Heomiri, who, according to legend, gifted his Titan not only with a talisman, but with his very blood. The legend also states that this bloodline is not limited to only the Titan, but to all the people of Fire. These men and women are today called Zebak, and are well known for their cunning and physical strength._

 _Those aligned with Element Fire will possess a keener intuition than others, though their tempers may be quite short. Their greater strengths may be either physical or mental; mainly, it will only be one extreme or the other. In either case, they will be people of tremendous will, and they tend to excel at fore-planning. Due to their passionate, volatile natures, they may or may not make good leaders, soldiers, or thinkers._

 _Element Fire is the most dangerous of the four World Elements, as it can easily overwhelm its brothers if it gets out of hand. Its only true undoing is Element Water, which naturally conflicts with it on the compass. However, their high and low seasons are also naturally opposed, so that Fire is strongest when Water is weakest, and Water is strongest when Fire is weakest._

"Teleportation," Timon murmured, thoughtfully stroking his beard. "You seemed so unsurprised, when the boy mentioned it. I had wondered at it, because it certainly shocked the rest of us. Now I understand."

"I had been aware of it before, though I had quite forgotten about it until this morning," Rowan added. "I had never dreamed that this power could be so potent, or so far-reaching. I had thought that this teleportation was limited only to objects—small objects—and could surely only reach across a few miles, at best. If it was like the talents of the other elements, such an act should be a tremendous strain, and leave its user drained to the point of exhaustion, even unconsciousness. Teleporting _people_ ought to be a risky business; so many things could go wrong."

"Like what?" Jiller asked.

"For instance, what if Zadina exhausted her strength when her men were only halfway across the sea? What if her concentration faltered, even for a moment, and they ended up someplace she hadn't intended? Such as the mountain, or the plains?"

"Perhaps she has had plenty of practice," John suggested grimly. "The boy did say that all her spies were summoned back to their city, and that they all returned promptly. He also said that there were 100 of them, in all. How could so many people flee our land so easily, without us noticing? We should have seen ships on the horizon, or grach in the sky. We should have seen _something_."

"It could also answer the question of how there have always been spies in our land, though we've never known how they come and go so quietly," Timon continued. "Their Titans have probably been teleporting people to and from our land for hundreds of years. Shaaran, what can you tell us of this?"

"Nothing," she answered sadly. "I was only a girl when I left; and when I was there, I was only a slave. All I knew of Central Control was that they were in charge of me, and that they were allowed to beat me to death if I didn't obey them."

She paused, glancing at the ceiling. "In fact, I suppose few of the people know what goes on with Central Control. Like me, all they ever seemed to know was to fear and obey without question. And the boy was right—failure to obey immediately has always been rewarded with enslavement. The fields are a horrible place to be forced to work, and the salt mines are certainly a death sentence. What Central Control does has never been anyone's business but Central Control's, and so no one I knew ever dared to question them."

"The _boy_ has a name, you know," Violet commented quietly. "It is Zan Garased. We all know it well by now, and we should use it. It's plain to me that few people ever have. We owe him nothing, but we owe him that, at least. He's still human."

"If you start doing that, you'll get overly attached to him," Bronden retorted. She looked back down at the book and frowned in puzzlement. "I can't believe that this whole slavery thing is real. For the people they wished to conquer, perhaps it is natural. But to turn on their own people like that? It doesn't make any sense to me!"

"Different people do things in different ways, Bronden," Rowan said calmly. "Of course we would never turn on each other like that; but we are a very small nation, and the Zebak are a very large nation. Once upon a time, it naturally suited them to enslave another people, so that their own could prosper the way they have. But then they made the mistake of separating us; they took their strongest slaves to war, left the weaker ones behind to work, and that plan foiled them in every way. The men and women we come from rebelled and won their freedom. Meanwhile, our missing, forgotten half languished and slowly dwindled away. They would have needed _someone_ to keep up the work. The Titans began using the only reliable resource they had: their own people."

Shaaran shuddered. "By the time I was born, this practice was already bitterly common. I know little of what life was like beyond the compound, but I used to hear terrible stories from the people who were brought in to work in our place. Fresh workers would be brought in every other week, claiming that they had been condemned for crimes they hadn't committed. They said that things had been going terribly wrong in the city for many years, but were too afraid to elaborate when there were so many guards watching constantly."

Bronden snorted angrily. "Cannibals," she muttered.

Suddenly, Shaaran looked angry, herself. "I don't see how you can be so surprised by this. Norriss and I have been trying to warn you of this for years; instead, you complain that we're whining and being nostalgic. It's not my fault you always refuse to listen to us."

Not far away, John, Jiller, and Timon were all doing their best not to look at her. She noticed this and glared at them.

"Oh, don't look like that! You're all as bad as she is!"

"Who's as bad as Bronden?" called a gruff voice from beyond the door. Shaaran huffily turned to unlock it, and opened it to find Norriss and Annad waiting on the other side. Seeing the thunderous look on her face, they both looked startled. Maybe even lightly afraid.

"Well, someone has gotten on your bad side," her brother commented. "What's going on in here?"

"Oh, it's nothing," she said with a dangerous smile. "It's just that these people are for some reason taken by complete surprise by the rampant slavery in the east."

Norriss glanced at them all, looking unimpressed.

"Yeah, about that," he agreed flatly, letting his fiancée inside first. "The two of us were just having an unpleasant conversation about that."

"Bad memories," Annad said, hugging herself. "I'm glad I remember so little of it, and that what I do remember is faint. I do recall the situation being awful, but… I never realized it was as bad as Zan claims."

Norriss put his arm around her shoulders. She was clearly very uncomfortable, and needed a little support.

"Zan told us a little more on our way to the jail house, and it seems that I was right. Much has changed in the last 18 years," he said. "I had found his title curious, because he spoke of a division called the Night Watch. I had never heard of this before, and so I asked him what it was. Apparently, the queen learned well from your small invasion, Rowan. The Zebak once thought that there was no need to guard their defenses, because getting past as 50-foot wall of solid steel should be completely impossible. Yet four people did, somehow, and stole what she considers to be her rightful property. Therefore, her first mission as queen was to establish a guard at all times. There is a patrol for the day, and a patrol for the night—Day Watch, and Night Watch, respectfully. Zan's squad happens to belong to the Night Watch, which was part of the reason they were chosen. The assignment was for a night mission, and squad C-57 was already on duty. It just worked out that way."

"And he technically isn't part of his team, to begin with," Annad continued. "According to Zan, Night Watch members must be 16 years old, at least. But he is only 14 years old. A member of their squad was promoted recently, and squads must number ten in all. However, his older brother is squad captain, and so requested that Zan fill that position. He is only second-rank, because he hasn't graduated from his training yet; but as long as he is assigned to C-57, the squad is whole and functional."

John eyed them quizzically. "He volunteered all of this?"

Norriss shrugged. "He said again that we have a right to know. Also, it has brought him great peace to confide in someone. He seems to have led a sad and difficult life, and I can't say it surprises me much. There is more he shared with us."

"Speak, then."

Norriss blanched. "I always knew that Central Control liked to make sport of enslaving innocent people, but… I never knew before just how deeply it runs. According to Zan, Central Control is, at its core, an army of unwilling servants. Each and every one of its members is a slave."

"What?" the gathering exclaimed in unison.

Annad buried her face in her hands. "Oh, it is a terrible thing," she sobbed. "Long before our people came to their city, the whole establishment was enslaved by the Dragon Lord. Its members had begun to rebel against him, to abandon their posts, because they refused to do his evil will. And people no longer volunteered for it, because it had become cruel and terrible work."

Norriss tightened his arm around her. She looked ready to burst into tears.

"Therefore, the Dragon Lord enslaved what remained of his army, so that they could never escape," he continued for her. "And to rebuild what had been lost, he began a tradition of raiding the streets, snatching up random bystanders, and recruiting them. Whenever warm bodies run short, they simply haul the strongest looking people they can see off the streets and force them into service. Not even small children are safe from the snatchers, he says.

"And then, when it seemed he could humiliate them no more, the Dragon Lord took it one step further. To ensure that Central Control would stand for all time, he swore a solemn oath, bound by deep magic, that all their descendants would be enslaved, also. Any child born to an officer from that time forward would be doomed to be an officer, as well. And so Central Control would double—triple—grow to be ten times what it had been before.

"Zan said before that no Zebak walks free but the Dragon Lord. He did, indeed, tell nothing but the truth."

The rest of them were silent as they absorbed the story.

Finally, Rowan sighed. "He also said that he is the youngest son of the Garased family. No doubt, the Garaseds have been enslaved for many generations, now. So he was born to this fate, without a chance of escape. He really is just a victim of horrible circumstance."

"It hardly excuses anything," Bronden said loudly. "You can't go soft on him now! Not when—"

Annad interrupted her by stamping her foot hard on the wooden floor.

"It's not fair!" she wailed. "It's not fair that we can't help these people! No one should have to live like this. And Zan is only a child! He's just barely older than Star! How could anyone be so _evil_?"

It wasn't like her to be so sensitive, but these revelations had struck a tender place in her heart. She had narrowly escaped a similar fate, while thousands of people remained bound by enslavement. And this sort of injustice was something she could never tolerate. It baffled and hurt her that she had been so close to it and still so far away, and that there was nothing she could do about any of it.

Rowan had never liked it, either. And his sister's words gave him pause. While his own child had grown up happy and free, living a safe and comfortable life, someone else's child had been forced from birth to serve a cruel, evil master. It was strange and awful to think of.

"There was something else he mentioned, right before we left him," Norriss said slowly. "He told us not to be too afraid, because his brother already has a plan in place, and intends to take care of everything. I can't figure what he meant by that; but we had heard plenty for one day, and decided to join you as soon as possible. Even if his brother is captain of their team, I don't see how he has the power to take care of anything in particular."

Rowan was silent, thinking back to the previous night, making the connection. He had thought the boy's violet eyes had seemed familiar—he shared them with his brother. The captain of squad C-57, who had faced him with bitterness, and spoken with the barest hint of regret in his gruff voice.

 _There is nothing you can give us, now. We've already claimed what we came for._

The man who Zane had called Zamiel. Zamiel Garased, who apparently had a plan. And if he had a plan, then he had to have hope and defiance in his heart, no matter what he had been taught or told to do.

If this man could find hope, then Zeel could find it, too. Perhaps it wasn't much, but it was still there.

 _That will have to be enough for me, as well,_ he decided.

Another silence had fallen, while everyone absorbed this new batch of news, and he was glad of it. All the information had to be considered carefully, and no decision—even to do nothing—could be made lightly. At least his friends were taking it seriously, even though it was hard. It was a lot to ask from some of them, who were short-tempered, passionate, and quick to action.

John had never liked to stand around in deep discussion, carefully and patiently gathering information, when he could be busy forming a plan; he had always been much better at that. He was practical that way, always thinking toward the next step, and impatient to move to it as quickly as he could. He didn't like dwelling on present problems, when they could be solved with quick thinking and appropriate action. Being silent and patient in this moment was an obvious frustration to him. Having to rely so heavily on others for answers, realizing just how little he really knew, was also bothering him intensely.

Norriss was also impatient for action, and the day's many unsettling discoveries had nearly overwhelmed him. He suddenly had a lot to think about, and a lot riding on the decisions they would make in the next few days. His dear friend was in unimaginable peril, and that was bad enough; but he was also thinking of older friends, and the true bitterness they had known all their lives. He had spent years making pleas on their behalf, begging his own people to understand their trouble; and when his efforts had been met with harsh words, name-calling, and even threats, he had endured it gladly. After all this time, he was on the edge of validation.

And Bronden was just angry. All she really wanted was to punch something, and let a little of that rage out of her system. Her anger was almost beautiful, though, because it came from the very best place in her heart. For all her coldness, for all her insistence that there were no excuses, she felt genuinely terrible. Perhaps she even felt compassion. Without a practical way to act on it, she had no idea what to do with herself.

The rest of them were thoughtful and careful by nature, and so they found the silence an almost blessed relief. While there was silence, there was time for them to think clearly. Timon was a teacher, always looking for something new to learn and understand. Violet kept the books, and Shaaran kept the silks; they shared an appreciation for knowledge and truth. Jiller was wise and cautious, and would never allow her husband to act rashly or emotionally.

 _Together, they make an impressive and formidable team,_ Rowan decided. _Many talents, one people. Whatever comes next, at least we will have each other._

At length, Jiller sighed and raised her head.

"So, what do we intend to do about all this?" she asked the gathering. "This news is all very grim, and it is still too early to make any real decisions, but we should at least have some sort of plan in place. And what if the Titan sends more men, on a mission to actually attack us? We must be prepared."

"If they attack us, we will fight," Bronden answered right away. "Or else, we can lock them up with their wayward friend. What more can be done?"

"She has a point," Timon agreed. "There's little else we could do, in that instance. Forming a plan is another issue, though. We've learned much of our enemy today, but little of it could be used to plan a rescue mission. I know the thought is in all our minds."

"We can't just leave Zeel to her fate," said Norriss. "Whatever the Dragon Lord has in store for her, it won't be pleasant. We have to do something. We have to get her back!"

"I don't think that is up for discussion; we all want to get her back. Our options are extremely limited, then. We can't teleport people across the sea. Flying would be dangerous, as we would have no cover and no protection, and would likely be shot out of the sky as soon as we were seen. And we clearly won't be able to sneak through the backdoor again, even under cover of darkness, as it is now heavily guarded at all times. I'm afraid that making a plan at this point would be pointless, Norriss. We can't exactly see the future, after all."

Annad looked up, her face alight with excitement.

"But we can, in a way," she exclaimed, and turned to her brother. "Rowan, speak to the other Titans. Speak to the sigil. Ask them for help. The Keeper can see all time clearly. And the sigil only speaks truth and wisdom. Surely, between all these things, you can come up with an idea or two."

Secretly, Rowan doubted this. The sigil hadn't failed him, but it had been guarding itself from his lately. The Keeper had admitted that the Crystal was giving him the same cold shoulder. And they still weren't sure where Mithren was, or what he was up to. If they were having so many problems with their own talismans, it was likely that the winds were being just as silent when their Titan called them.

Of course, he couldn't say this out loud. Not when his sister was so thrilled to have thought of a solution, and the others were all watching him with wild hope in their eyes. They must have been wondering how they could forget his very useful talents. He supposed that it was easy to forget, when he rarely used them, and lived such a modest, normal life.

Not one to disappoint, he forced an appreciative smile, hoping that his doubts weren't showing on his face.

"I shall do my best," he said.

"Don't look so sullen, boy," Bronden said gruffly. "Why, you of all people ought to be overjoyed! Oh, how could we not have thought of it, before? And how could you have forgotten to mention it, yourself?"

Rowan took the book and put it back in his pocket. "I hadn't forgotten," he answered, moving toward his study. "But the future is a precarious and fickle thing, always changing, never really set in stone. Perhaps knowing it could help us… Or we could meet it to find that it has already been changed by our actions, and is now quite different from what we had expected. You never can tell with the future. Trusting it is ill advised."

He stopped at the kitchen door to face his friends. "All the same, it will do us no harm at this point to try. I may need some time to do this properly, so if you have business to see to, by all means, go about it. We all need time to think over what has happened, and what we've learned today; and we each need to do so in our own ways. Take your time. Be sensible and reasonable. Sleep, if you can. Have faith, do not despair or be anxious. And don't let a word of this leave this house. We are angry and frightened enough; it won't help us if the people are upset."

His friends and family all nodded slowly, somewhat reluctantly. It seemed a poor place to end their meeting.

"We will meet here again in the morning," John said decidedly. "With luck, we will have at least some answers to our many questions. In the meantime, he is right. Not a word goes beyond that door."

He turned and fastened an urgent hand on his stepson's shoulder.

"Please tell me there is something I can do."

Rowan placed his hand apologetically on his, and shook his head.

"I'm afraid not. This is something I have to do on my own. Perhaps tomorrow will be different."

John was deeply disappointed, but kept it expertly hidden. "Very well then. I'm… I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. I'll figure it out. I have to."

With that, John turned away and led the rest of the gathering out of the house. Everyone followed him quietly. All except for Annad, who lingered where she was, still hugging herself as if she were freezing.

"Annad, are you coming?" Norriss asked over his shoulder.

"No, I'll stay," she answered. "I should stay. Someone has to."

Understandingly, he nodded a farewell and walked out the door, closing it behind him. The brother and sister were alone.

"You know you don't have to do that."

"You need someone to spot you. It would do us no good for you to pass out and fall face first into a fire. And it doesn't suit you to be so alone, when you are so troubled. I'm glad to be here for you, brother."

Rowan offered her a tired smile. "That is true. Thank you, Annad. It means much to me."

She gave him a tired smile of her own, walked to put her arm around him, and led him down the hall.

"What are little sisters for, anyway?"

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 _Afterthoughts..._

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Much like the compass, the sketch I made in my Word document of the Fire symbol doesn't translate well to ffnet. I will hopefully have it up on DeviantArt someday soon, along with other visual aids. ;D


	12. Chapter 12: The Homecoming

_*From April, 2015…_

Ug, if only I hadn't plunged headfirst into the _Deltora Quest_ fandom. But I did. And it devoured my soul for a while, there. From November to April, I bottomed out in the middle of this chapter and got nothing done. :/

But I'm _dyyyyying_ to get to the Zebak lands, already, so I've got to finish this chapter. One more spurt or two of painful awkwardness, and we're done on this side of the world for….. Basically forever. ;D

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 _Chapter 12: The Homecoming_

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If Star suddenly seemed quiet to some people, she wasn't surprised. She felt subdued, somehow. She couldn't put words to the feeling, but something felt… Wrong.

It hadn't been like this when the trading party had left Maris. Star had been sorry to say goodbye to her new friends, and to the Keeper, and to the library; but she had also been excited to be home. She couldn't wait to see her mother and father again, to show them everything she had done, and even to tease them over how pointless their worrying had been. Those first four days of travel had passed in a buzz of anticipation.

Then the fifth day had dawned, and Star had known immediately that something somewhere was not at all right. She could feel it all around her, in the air and the earth. Star had no idea what it could mean, but she guessed that the change must be connected to the Titans. And as the party drew closer to Rin, the sensation was only growing stronger.

At first, the feeling had been a mere curiosity, and she had wondered what her father and his brothers might be up to. As it had grown stronger, dread had quickly begun to take curiosity's place. She had begun to worry that something had gone terribly wrong at home, and it scared her to not know what it was.

Now it was the afternoon of the final day of travel. The final hill was well in sight; in less than an hour, the party would be looking down on their village for the first time in a month. Several cheers of excitement had risen from the party, but Star had been silent. The feeling of a disturbance was stronger than ever. In the back of her godfather's wagon, she hugged her knees to her chest and shivered, fearing what they might find when they reached the top of the hill.

"Star, do cheer up," Leah insisted, patting her hand. "We're almost home! It will be a relief to be back, won't it? And just think how excited your silly parents will be to see you."

"I know," Star agreed slowly. "But I still can't shake this feeling that something terrible has happened. What if someone is dead? What if the storehouse burned down? What if the whole village burned down?"

"Star, Star, calm down. Now you're just getting yourself worked up over nothing."

"I just don't know what else could have been awful enough to make me feel this way. All I can say is that it was something big. Leah, you can't tell me you don't feel it."

Leah shrugged, pushing her spectacles higher on her nose. "I feel the autumn breeze on my face, and a great joy to be home again, but that is all. Nothing feels different to me."

"I'm afraid I must agree with her, Starfire," Allun called over his shoulder. "All I feel is anxious to be back to my precious bakery. It seems strange, that you have felt this foreboding for the last three days, but no one else has noticed anything different. It worries me…"

Star pinned her eyes on the floor of the wagon, willing his words not to frighten her. She was worried about this, too. It could only mean that this change in the air was borne of deep magic; it was, indeed, being caused by the Titans. So of course Star could sense it—both of her parents were Lairad, after all. The elements had changed their moods to reflect the moods of their Titans, as the world felt the feelings of its people. The energy of the world had suddenly turned mournful and angry, shocked and fearful.

The energy felt so overwhelmingly negative, Star was unsure how she could be the only one aware of it. Yet the people around her went on chatting pleasantly, whistling merrily, or smiling towards the horizon, not thinking for a second that anything could be wrong. Even her own family, so used to the idea of magic, felt nothing amiss in the world.

But they were willing to be concerned, because she was clearly concerned. Her godparents were silent as they unsmilingly faced the horizon. Leah was nervous and fidgety. Alanis had spurred her Max to move a little faster, and her handsome face was a mask of impatience. Star had to wonder if her cousin did feel something, now that they were so close to being home, but guessed that she didn't want to admit it in front of so many people.

 _I should have kept my thoughts to myself,_ Star realized. _Alanis heard me wondering if someone died, and now she's worried for her parents. There aren't many things that could turn papa's mood so foul that even the distant hills respond to it; losing his parents is one of those things, though. And, really, I can't think of anything more likely. Accidents do happen…_

She felt a lump gathering in her throat, and she swallowed it painfully. Coming home should have been thrilling. As they finally crested the hill, she should have been filled with joy. Instead, as she jumped to her feet to gaze down at the valley, she was filled with aching dread.

Below them, the valley was the picture of serenity. The fields and trees were spangled glorious gold and scarlet. The village stood undisturbed and quite normal; Star could faintly see its people going about their usual business. She could see her own house, and the impressive tree in her backyard. Not terribly far away, the bukshah were milling peacefully in their pasture. As the first of the wagons reached the top of the hill, she heard distant cries and cheering. Some of the people had spotted them, and were rushing around to spread the news.

Nothing at all seemed out of the ordinary. Marlie breathed a sigh of relief. "There, you see? All is well. There's nothing to worry about, Star-Star!"

The girl was beyond paying attention. She had jumped over the side of the wagon, and was running as fast as she could down the hill. She had no intention of stopping until she reached her house, found her mother and father, and heard with her own ears what was going on. Perhaps the rest of her family couldn't see it, but something was terribly wrong. She had only had to glance at the bukshah to know it. Everyone else must have looked upon them and thought that they looked as they always did.

But Star knew the beasts well, from stories as well as experience. They were all standing too still, with their heads raised and alert. Some of the more sensitive ones were swaying slightly, overcome by nerves. And they were too quiet. The only sound she had heard from them was a single bellow, which had come from Treasure—the only black member of the herd, who had come to lead them in the last few years. The sound had been one of greeting, but also of warning.

The scene was too much like things she had written about. Deep in her heart, she knew exactly what those signs meant. The bukshah were afraid. And if they were afraid, then there was invisible danger nearby. People had ignored them in the past, but she would not.

 _I must find my father,_ she told herself. _He will explain everything. Surely, he is working on things already. We will all be fine._

For some reason, she couldn't quite believe that.

The gentle slope of the hill gave her speed, but she was still out of breath by the time she reached the fence around her backyard. She hoped over it, searching desperately for one of her parents. They would have been expecting her for hours. They would have been waiting in the yard to greet her, hug and kiss her, and welcome her home. Nothing would have kept them from doing so. They would have stopped the world for it.

But the yard was deserted. It seemed as though nobody had been there in days.

She tried the door, found it unlocked, and flung it wide with a bang as she ran inside. The brass bell sounded with a clatter, but she ignored it.

"Mum!" she called. "Papa! It's me, Star! I'm home! Where are you?"

"Star?"

The familiar female voice was tight with concern, and difficult to match to a face; but Star's heart leapt with relief at the sound of it. Relief faded to disappointment, however, when Annad appeared at the other end of the hallway, her tall form filling the kitchen doorway. Her being here when her brother and sister clearly were not raised many more questions that Star had no time for.

All the same, Star was glad to see her aunt; and in spite of her concern, Annad was glad to see her, too. Perhaps a little too glad. They hurried to meet in the middle of the hallway, and her aunt embraced her with a surprising fierceness.

"Thank the heavens you're back safely," Annad murmured into the girl's hair. "We had expected you back hours ago."

"We got off to a late start this morning," Star answered, indulging her aunt's attempt at a casual greeting. "Where are my parents? Why were they not waiting for me?"

Annad gripped her niece by the shoulders and faced her squarely. "Oh, they would have been. Sadly, your father is… In the middle of something. He asked if I would greet you in his place."

Star regarded the woman suspiciously. "What about mum? She must be with him, then."

Annad made an odd, pained expression. She put her arm around Star and led her down the hallway.

"Come into the kitchen, Star. Sit at the table. I've made tea and cookies; you will be wanting both, shortly. I'm afraid there is much to tell you."

Star stared up at her, feeling terror grip her heart. "What happened? Tell me!"

"Sit down before I explain. Oh, Star… You will not like this…"

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Rowan had been dreading the trading party's return. He still had no idea how to face his only child. Explaining what had happened was a thing he didn't know if he could bear; and the news he had received in the last three days did nothing to help.

Far away, his brothers had been alarmed to find that all of a sudden, their silent talismans had flared to life with warnings of an invasion, and that those warnings had come hours too late. When it had happened, Mithren had finally joined their hive mind for the first real time in a month. He had been furious, and nearly mad with worry.

 _The winds were fearfully silent. Ogden and I decided to lead our people into the northern mountains, where we might be safe,_ he had explained, the sound of his whispering voice like a storm wind. _If I have seemed distant, that is why. I have been farther away than usual, and reaching you has been difficult. But we decided that we needed the distance. We needed the space to meditate, to listen and be ready. Oh, we were fools to move out of your reach! If we had been there, we might have been of some help!_

His brothers had doubted that. They had quickly decided that their most urgent business was planning their next course of action. All three of the Titans loved Zeel, each in his own way. None of them had any intention of abandoning her to the Dragon Lord's wrath. They had put their heads together, combined their power, and pleaded with the cosmos for an answer.

The answer they had received was far from satisfactory. No matter how many times they had tried, the universe continued to provide the same answer. It felt as if the words were being pounded into them with a gavel, with a command that was grave, forceful, and totally final.

 _The task is not yours to fulfill._

 _Wait, be patient, and be still._

 _The Dragon's reign will surely fall_

 _And free our land, once and for all._

The answer was beyond belief. How could they be expected to be still, when someone they loved so dearly had been snatched away by their worst enemy? And how was the Dragon Lord supposed to fall, but at the hands of the other Titans? The deep magic of the Lairad was the only possible hope against her. How could the task be anyone else's?

Rowan despised it with his whole heart. A large part of him had refused to accept it. He had been tempted to ignore the whole thing, and storm off on another quest. He had beaten impossible odds like this before. He would simply do it again. Even as his brothers had begged him to be rational and not tempt fate, he had shoved a few things for the journey into a bag and ran to get Unos.

 _This may be the last time we fly together,_ he had thought vaguely. _It is more than likely that we will be flying to our doom._

Of course, Sheba had known that he was coming. When he had reached the clearing in front of her home, she had been waiting to smack him across the face. She had hit him with enough force to knock him to the ground.

"Foolish boy, be rational," she had snapped, glaring down at him. "If you were not fated for this task, then attempting it for yourself will ruin everything. The task belongs to someone else, who will have the thing well in hand. Perhaps that someone has been your wife all along; we have no way of knowing. Can't you be bothered to be a little patient? You will just have to accept that this is the way it is, and that you have no right to be in the way."

He hated how right his teacher was. If destiny was working its invisible hand, he had no power to say it was wrong. The pill was bitter and difficult to swallow; but he was slowly, reluctantly admitting defeat to it. For once, the hand of Fate had chosen a different hero. And for once, he wished that it had chosen him again. Who else could have such a right to the task of rescuing his wife?

Maybe it really was Zeel, herself. Maybe that was why she had been discovered, after so many years. Maybe that was the real reason why she had been taken back to her homeland. Maybe she really was meant to do some terrible, wonderful thing, and bring about the end of the Dragon Lord's reign. Sheba had only mentioned it to try and clam him, to try and make him see reason, and remind him that he wasn't the only one with great plans. But the idea had quickly become his only hope.

There was nothing he could do now. All he really could do was wait, and pray.

It wasn't enough for the people he trusted, either. Most of his friends were in the square, waiting with the rest of the people to welcome the trading party home, and to catch his other friends before rumors or falsehoods caught them first. He was alone with John and Timon in the house of books, trying desperately to pretend that he wasn't hiding.

It would never be enough for Star. Rowan was glad that his sister had volunteered to greet her, so that he wouldn't have to. He had absolutely nothing positive to tell the girl, and nothing that could possibly comfort her.

A long silence had passed between the three men, as they had mostly run out of things to say. They had already heard cheering from the square, a sure sign that the traders had returned. Families and friends were reuniting outside, happy to be together once again. Alanis was probably looking for her father, wondering why he wasn't among them. Frenzied, half-true tales of the last few days were being exchanged, and the traders were no doubt quickly becoming alarmed.

"We will have to face them sometime," Timon said slowly. "If we don't go to them soon, they will come to us."

Rowan sighed. "Yes, I know."

"They won't care for your answers to this mess," John said heavily, shaking his head. "Rowan, I've never been one to meddle with magic, because it's no place of mine. But I must insist that you change your mind and reconsider this. Ignore the blasted sigil, just this one time. Gather a party of your trusted friends. Take your pack, and take Unos—steal the beast, if you must. Fly to the aid of your wife, and crush the Dragon Lord together, as you have crushed every other evil that ever came into your way. It has never failed before."

"You know I can't do that, John, and you know why."

"The people will never accept such a defeat so easily. They've seen you do exactly the same thing in the past, and they will beg you to do it again. All their hope rests on you, once again. If you refuse them on the premise of listening to the will of the universe, there will be a mutiny. Perhaps we are willing to consider such a thing, but others will think you mad. Many will call you a traitor."

Rowan swallowed hard. "That is a risk I shall simply have to take. I learned long ago that ignoring divine intervention has greater consequences than being thought mad. I asked for an answer, and I received one. Battling against it would be beyond foolish. It would only make things worse."

"And are you so at peace with that? They took Zeel from us—they took her from you! They have enslaved and perhaps killed her! Is this all it takes for you to abandon her?"

Rowan slammed his fist on a table, silencing him.

"Do not speak to me that way! Do I look to be at peace with this? Look at my face!"

John was visibly startled, and looked like he wanted to back away. Rowan had seen his own face in a mirror that morning, and knew that the last few days had left him a wreck of a person. He had become as pale as a specter. His eyes were deeply shadowed, bloodshot from weeping and lack of sleep. Here and there, strands of gray had appeared in his dark hair. He was exhausted, tense, and heartbroken, and it showed pitifully. In only three days, he seemed to have aged ten years.

"I have no choice but to accept my fate," he hissed. "But don't you dare think for a second that it isn't killing me."

John looked away, ashamed to have spoken so sharply; Timon had flinched away, and staunchly remained silent. It was hard for them to understand that his place in the world was suddenly so minor. Fate had chosen him for all manner of impossible tasks, and he had only been a boy. It was hard to imagine that now, when he was one of the most powerful men in the world, Fate would command him to step back, and let someone else be the destined one. It was hard to imagine that the destined one could be anyone else.

Rowan had his own ideas about who that destined one might be. He mentally shook his head, willing his suspicions to be wrong.

As if the universe was simply determined make him feel foolish, the door burst open and the very object of his worries exploded into the house of books. Star bounded across the room, her face wet and tear streaked, and threw herself into his arms.

"Papa, tell me it's not true!" she wailed. "Please tell me it's not true!"

He wished dearly that he could oblige her, but of course he couldn't. All he could really do was hold her close and gently rock her. He couldn't bear to speak to her. His silence seemed to speak for him, though. Seeing that he wasn't going to answer, Star buried her face deeper into his shoulder and let painful sobs wrack her body. She was shaking all over, like a scarlet leaf. It was a small wonder that she was still standing so straight and tall—the way her mother would have wanted her to.

Rowan was surprised with himself, that now, in this of all moments, he couldn't find any tears to weep with his child. It seemed that the well had run dry. Also, deep inside his heart, he had found the nerve to be strong for her. She needed more than ever for her father to be strong. He was almost all she had left now.

And she was almost all he had, too. He held her a little closer, relishing the warm, sweet presence he had missed so much. He kissed her hair, and silently blessed the universe for sparing her. Star was only alive because she had been so far away. She, at least, was safe. It was the one thing he could truly be thankful for.

All at once, an idea came to him. Still tucking his daughter's face safely into his shoulder, he looked up at his companions.

"I need the two of you to step outside, please," he said in a low voice.

Unable to deny him much, especially after all that had happened in the last few minutes, the two men nodded and silently made their way toward the door. John paused only briefly, obviously wanting to say something comforting to Star; but he saw right away that this was not the moment for it, and so went on his way without a word.

Once they were gone, Rowan took Star's face in his hands and tried in vain to brush away her tears. But it was no use; more and more tears flooded to take the place of those he wiped away.

"Oh, Star," he murmured, kissing her forehead. "I can't begin to say how glad I am to see you."

Star suddenly looked up at him, with anger flashing in her eyes. "How can you not mean to go after her?" she demanded. "You _have_ to go after her! How can you even think not to?"

Rowan stifled a groan. It seemed his sister had left nothing unexplained, after all. Instead, he sighed.

"I'm afraid that is also true," he said heavily. "But perhaps you can help me change that."

He reached for the sigil, and pulled it off over his head. He knew he was taking a great risk doing this; but lately, the gold medallion had been far more insightful to Star than it had been to him. A large part of him was terrified that when it spoke to her this time, its prophecy would be clear enough to rip her away from him.

Or, it could scold him for continuing to meddle with Fate, and using his distraught child to do it. It seemed a cruel thing to ask of her in this moment, when she had only just arrived home to learn that her mother had been stolen away from her. However, if they were extremely lucky, she could provide an answer. And she would never object to a chance to try. Whatever happened, he knew that later she would be proud to have been so helpful.

Willing his hand not to shake, he pressed the sigil into hers.

"Star," he said urgently, "I know it is asking much of you, but I need your help. We all do, and we need it desperately. I've already pleaded for an answer a thousand times, but the sigil refuses to speak to me. I believe it wants to speak to you, instead."

She stared at it blankly for a moment, as if she had never seen it before, as if she didn't understand what was being asked of her. She glanced up at her father, baffled, and still angry.

"What am _I_ supposed to do?" she quietly demanded, unable to believe what was being asked of her.

Rowan gripped her shoulders gravely. "Just speak to it. Ask it for answers. I know it will listen to you, as it refuses to listen to me. You alone can do this now."

Still disbelieving, Star clutched the sigil and squeezed her streaming eyes shut. He knew she was silently speaking to it. He wondered what she was asking, exactly. He wondered which words she was choosing, and if she was asking the same obvious questions he had. Or was she using different words, asking questions that had never occurred to him before?

She was still angry and deeply hurt, but she was willing. No doubt, she was expecting a long-awaited summons to a great adventure. Expecting, and dreading.

She began to shudder all over, as words rose up from within her. But she relaxed, as she had been taught, and simply let the words of prophecy flow free.

 _Fire, Water, Earth and Air:_

 _A dragon's light will guide them there—_

 _Where chains are gold, and work is free,_

 _Where they shall find their destiny._

 _Trust the captive, show him faith,_

 _Set him free, and be repaid._

 _In iron claws, the land is sealed._

 _Now golden hearts shall be revealed._

It was the longest and most powerful prophecy she had ever been given. It didn't surprise Rowan in the slightest that as soon as the last words had left her lips, Star crumpled to her knees, only half awake. He bent to catch her and held her close again, as if he could hope to shield her from those words.

As she slowly recovered, he considered what those words meant. The verse about the elements was so painfully familiar, it was like a knife in his stomach. The words weren't about the elements, themselves, but rather four people who would be led somewhere.

He didn't have to think hard of where that place was. / _Where chains are gold /and work is free_ /. It could only mean the Zebak lands, where every man, woman, and child was silently enslaved to their malevolent queen. It was the most wretched place he could think of to be led.

And there was suddenly little doubt in his mind of who that leader was supposed to be. In fact, he was certain that the dragon who would guide the four, and the captive who was to be shown faith, were one and the same. And he was here, locked in a prison cell just down the street.

So, it seemed that Zan Garased was to lead a band of heroes into the domain of the Dragon Queen. The prophecy had ended with words of hope, that perhaps the heroes would work some wonder and cause a great change. Rowan couldn't think of those hopeful words, though. All he could think of was that, whatever else happened, Star was clearly meant to be one of the heroes. No doubt she was to represent element Earth, where her father had been denied.

It didn't matter if Fate had made its decision. His wife, his dearest friend, had already been snatched away from him. His only child had been sparred by nothing but a fortunate accident. Rowan no longer cared what the universe wanted from him; it had already demanded far too much. If the universe was after Star as well, it would have to go disappointed. He had no intention of letting her go again. He would protect her with his life, with all his strength and power. It was the only thing he was still allowed to do. He refused to fail her now.

Star began to stir, to pull herself together and sit up straight. Pushing thoughts of Fate and the universe out of his mind, Rowan helped her up, focusing all his energy on her instead.

"Are you alright?" he asked, anxious to just hear her voice.

Star didn't answer, as much as she nodded vaguely and mumbled what sounded like an agreement. She ran a hand over her face, drained and disoriented. Her gaze wandered up to her father's face, seeking direction. Suddenly, her eyes were wide open and clear, and the anger was gone. Instead, he saw fearful wonder there, and knew that she understood the prophecy as clearly as he did.

Before she could say anything about it, he pulled her to her feet and steered her toward the door.

"We should join the people in the square," he said evenly. "You need to move, and breathe the fresh air. It will help clear your head."

"I need to meet him," the girl said suddenly.

"Meet who?"

"The boy in the jailhouse. I need to meet him."

"I don't think so, Star. You are going to stay right here with me. If you think I'm going to let you out of my sight again, you are quite mistaken."

Star looked absolutely aghast, perhaps even horrified at the idea. But she was too baffled and tired to protest, and simply let her father lead her outside.

 _That will not last long,_ Rowan thought, almost in dismay. _As soon as she recovers, she will fight for her own way. I just don't know how to tell her that she can't have her way. I haven't the strength left for that battle. I sincerely hope that she sees that and takes pity on me. I don't want to fight with her now. I don't know if I can._

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When Star had sprinted past the crowd in the square, the noise had only been a buzz of various conversations. It had been a normal, happy sound, as it might have been on any other day. When she returned with her father to join that crowd, the noise had risen sharply. The terrible story of her mother's abduction was making its way around, it seemed. The newly returned traders were shouting in anger and alarm. One or two of them may have even been weeping. Some of them were demanding explanations and action. Those who already knew the whole story were shouting over them, trying to be heard.

As she and her father appeared, however, the crowd quickly fell silent. Most of them simply knew better than to try their Titan in his current mood. The newcomers all looked to him with wild hope, expecting answers or some sort of plan. Star knew how badly some of them wanted to run to him, to offer him the comfort and love she knew he needed right now. But all were silent, waiting for him to say something.

They all pinned their focus on her father, and tactfully avoided looking right at her. She was shaking, still not fully revived from her talk with the sigil, her heart struggling between despair and hope. A few tears were still streaming down her face. Normally, she would have been scolded and mocked mercilessly for crying in public; but for this exceptionally miserable occasion, it appeared that the people of Rin were willing to look the other way. Who among them could truly blame her?

Seeing that silence was going to stretch on and on until he spoke, Rowan took a deep breath and stood as straight as he could. As tall as he was, he still seemed bent with exhaustion.

"I know that many of you have been welcomed home with wild stories and rumors," he said in an amazingly even voice. "That we have been invaded, and someone has been taken. And I know that you are waiting for me to speak with comfort and hope."

He paused, staring blankly at nothing in particular as he chose his next words carefully.

"I'm afraid there is no comfort to speak. The stories and rumors are true. As for a plan, there isn't one, and little hope for one, either."

While the crowd began murmuring in grave disappointment, Star looked up at her father in disbelief.

"But there _is_ a plan," she insisted ignoring the crowd and speaking only to him. "I just gave it to you."

He nervously glanced around him, at the sea of eyes watching them, waiting for an explanation. No doubt he wished she hadn't spoken so plainly in front of so many people; but Star didn't care about them. Why should they even care? She failed to see how it was their problem, or how they could be of any help right now.

"It is less a plan, as it is whispers of what may only be," he said diplomatically to the crowd, not to her. "It offers us little help."

"It offers us every help!" Star burst out, suddenly furious. "It tells us exactly what to do, as it always does!"

He looked down at her and crossed his arms. "Very well, Star. What do you propose we do, then?"

"We free him, of course."

Her father's tired eyes grew wide; he clearly couldn't believe she had suggested such a thing so loudly. Seeing that he would be of no help, Star turned away from him and finally spoke directly to the crowd.

"He must free the boy in the jailhouse," she announced, confident beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was right. "He knows something, or has some power we don't understand. He can help us."

To her dismay, most of the crowd was shaking their heads at her. Many people were even laughing at her. They didn't believe her any more than her father did.

"How can you be so sure of that, small Star?" someone asked, halfway between scolding and jeering.

"Because I know it," she answered, holding up the sigil still clutched in her hand. "I've seen it, and heard it. If we show the boy faith, he will repay us. I know it sounds insane, but it _is_ the truth. I know it is!"

But no one was listening to her now. More and more of them were laughing now. Some were even grumbling in anger. Still, she couldn't spare a care for that. Her mother's life hung in the balance. She had to keep trying to make them understand. She didn't know what else she could do.

Before she could continue, her father put his hand on her shoulder and forced her back behind him.

"My daughter is not herself, of course," he said mildly. "She is obviously in shock, and can't be blamed for that."

Outraged that he would make such an excuse, she pushed his hand off and backed away.

"How can you say that?" she demanded. "You can't really believe that, can you?"

He sighed tiredly—not in defeat, just in weariness. "Star, lower your voice."

"No, I will not," she said, raising her voice on purpose. "You will hear what I have to say!"

"Star, stop this at once."

"You asked me for my help, and I helped you! What more do you want from me?"

"That's enough—"

"But I understand it so clearly! How can you not see it? How can you refuse to see it?"

"I said that is enough!"

Star flinched in terrible surprise; and it seemed like the whole crowd flinched with her. So few of them had seen him so angry before. Star herself couldn't remember the last time he had spoken so sharply to her. It felt as though he had slapped her. Suddenly, he was absolutely furious with her.

More than that, he was beyond weariness. Star couldn't understand how she had missed that before. He was so changed, it was hardly like she was looking at her father anymore. She wasn't sure if she had the heart to fight him now. But he wasn't himself, either. He was afraid—for her. He had happily let that fear blind him. He wouldn't even listen to her now, as he always had before. She didn't want to fight him; but she knew he couldn't be the one to decide this.

He gripped her hand. he hand that still held the gold medallion. The anger had faded slightly from his face, but his eyes were very cold.

"Star, go home."

"But papa—"

"Now. We will discuss this later."

He hadn't the heart to fight with her, either, but he was just as unwilling to let her have her way. He simply wasn't going to give her the chance to win.

Star hesitated, unwilling to obey. It was the last thing she really wanted to do. But it was plain to see that more disobedience would get her nowhere in particular. It certainly wouldn't convince anyone, especially her father, to listen to her.

Partially hating herself for doing as she was told, she turned and ran. As badly as she needed to be heard, she wanted to get away from the square, and the stares of the crowd. And she wanted to get away from her father. She was so outstandingly angry with his stubbornness, she never wanted to look at him again.

 _And to think,_ she thought miserably, _less than an hour ago, all I wanted in the world was to see him._

As she made her way through the empty lanes, her run slowed to a brisk walk. Now that the crowd was behind her and she was alone, she found that she had quite a lot to think about. She slowed to a stop and looked down at the medallion in her hand. She gazed down at the cobbled road beneath her feet, and realized that she had come to a fork in the road.

The right-hand path would lead back to her house. She could do as her father had told her to and follow that path home, to wait for him. And very little would change.

If she followed the left-hand path, it would lead her directly past the jailhouse. She could do what Fate had commanded her to do, to free the jail's only current prisoner, and show him faith. And then, who even knew what was going to change?

After thinking it over for a moment, it wasn't really that hard to make her decision.

 _You've become very good at insisting on your own way, papa,_ she thought bitterly. _It's taken you many years of practice, perhaps; but you've mastered it, all the same. Well, if the apple really doesn't fall too far from the tree…_

And that was the end of that. She gave the medallion an encouraging squeeze and slipped it safely around her own neck. Then she turned and sprinted down the left-hand path without looking back.

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 _Afterthoughts…_

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I've spent most of this chapter being less pleased with it than I would like to be. But this installation has obviously been awkward and uncomfortable, and I finally just wanted it over with. I'd like to move on, already! So darn it, it's done. :D


	13. Chapter 13: The Captive

_*From April, 2015…_

I've little to report for now, say that I hope it won't take me 6 months to finish this chapter. -_-0

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 _Chapter 13: The Captive_

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Star turned a street corner and found herself almost facing the jailhouse. It was right on the other side of the street from her. She had passed it countless times, but had hardly ever noticed it. As it was, the jailhouse was seldom occupied; when it was, it was rarely for very long. A petty thief here, or a hot-headed brawler there, would come along every now and again and need to be detained; but the people were generally too busy living their lives to cause each other much trouble. Star had never known a prisoner to be kept in the jailhouse for more than a week.

Except, of course, for prisoners of war. Zebak people had been held easily in that jailhouse for months, not very long ago at all, during the terrible days of the Plains War. None of its warriors lived now to tell of it; but those who had been children then still remembered it vividly. Some of them liked to laugh ruefully at memories of those prisoners. The tales they had been told, and the rumors they had heard, had been things of nightmares. To them, the Zebak had seemed like monsters, demons, an unstoppable force of evil. And so, when it was discovered that those very devils could be held securely behind bars, like any other person, it had been comforting. Confusing, but comforting.

Star knew that story very well; so it peeved her sometimes to not know exactly how it ended. She never had been told what happened to those prisoners of war. Whenever the story came up, the teller usually ended it abruptly, mumbling something about poor record keeping. Apparently, the fate of those prisoners had been lost to the mists of time. Star didn't believe that entirely, but she was mostly willing to just accept it. Almost certainly the prisoners had been dealt with cruelly. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know what really happened.

Which was quite a quirk, she thought to herself. All this time later, another Zebak warrior was locked in the jailhouse, awaiting a punishment that was going to be far from pleasant. But this time, things were going to be different. This time, he would go free.

Such a thing had never happened before. No one ever would have dreamed it was possible.

Star had expected the whole time that she would meet a guard outside the jailhouse; it was rarely left unattended. She had spent her journey there trying to think how she would persuade a guard to let her inside, but her efforts so far seemed feeble. She knew there was little chance of talking her way into the jailhouse, especially now, of all times.

Her surprise was great, then, and her thanks even greater, when she found the place deserted. There was no one around to question her as she crossed the street to the modest jailhouse. Everyone had gone to the square, it seemed. Knowing that the door would certainly be locked, Star took out her knife and went to work on the simple lock. Her heart thudded painfully at a memories of her mother teaching her to do this.

 _Don't think of that,_ she told herself, shaking her head. _You'll only start to cry again; and a blubbering wreck is not a good first impression for anyone. You're about to meet a real Zebak warrior—you need to show him that you are strong, and not afraid. Otherwise, he'll never respect you, let alone listen to you._

 _Hm… The guard will be in a load of trouble later… Yes, think on that, instead. He left his post here to join the crowd, no doubt thinking that his only prisoner would never escape on his own, without a weapon. When his charge and I turn up missing later, everyone will be furious. Even if he never counted on me coming along, he underestimated this young man. That is a bit strange. You would think he would watch a Zebak with unblinking eyes! So… Why would he leave his post so easily…?_

Yes, indeed, it was strange. To Star, it reeked of destiny. She was on the path she was meant to be on, after all. Fate was clearing the way for her.

That was how it felt to her, anyway. Then the lock clicked open, and Star pushed the notion away for the moment. She was far too busy right now with moving forward to ponder the will of the universe. Unlocking the jailhouse door had only been a small victory, but it had filled her with triumph. At least one thing had gone right today. She opened the door and let herself inside.

A single torch was burning in a fixture on the wall, casting enough light to fill the small building and its three cells. The cells themselves were cast in deep shadows. As Star kicked the door shut behind her, she tried to peer into them, looking for the lone prisoner; but she could see nothing.

As the door shut, creaking on its hinges, she heard a loud sigh and the sound of someone shifting around in one of the cells. A hand appeared from the shadows of the second cell, gripping the iron bars.

"You've taken your time today," came the vaguely annoyed voice of a young man. "I don't blame you people for doing what you want with me, but I'd rather not starve to death, if it's all the same with you."

Star couldn't help smiling faintly. She hadn't been sure what to expect from this boy; but he sounded like a normal enough person. She had planned to be diplomatic and to the point; now she decided to be as cordial as she could. This boy had been stuck in a jail cell for the past three days, after all. Of course he would be irritated. Perhaps if he was shown kindness instead of threats, he would be more willing to listen to her.

"Actually," she answered, "I've come to speak with you. I'm a friend."

She still couldn't see him inside the cell, but she heard him scoff tiredly. "I doubt that very much, but it isn't like I can get up and walk away. Come into the light so I can see you, if you're such a friend."

Glad to have been invited, Star came forward until she found herself face to face with the boy in the cell. She had told herself repeatedly not to appear shocked or frightened or even curious about his appearance, because it would do her no good to make him feel more out of place than he already did.

She was surprised yet again to find that pretending was unnecessary. Upon meeting a Zebak warrior for the first time, she felt none of the things she had expected. Perhaps it was the bars separating them, but the boy seemed astoundingly normal to her. He was certainly human, and certainly just a boy. And he had clearly been subsisting in that cell for days, as anyone else would have. His gray uniform was unpressed, and his scuffed black boots were standing unused in a corner. His uniform coat was rolled up on the floor, more of a makeshift pillow than a coat for now. From the look of his tousled black hair, he hadn't been allowed a bath since he had arrived in Rin.

And so he met her for the first time barefoot and unwashed, looking understandably tired and hungry. If it weren't for the black mark on his face, he could have passed very well as a Traveler, as her mother had done for so many years. Even with the mark and his grave scowl, Star liked his face at once. In fact, she was inclined to think it was a fairly handsome face. If he had been given the chance to bathe and press his uniform and make himself presentable, he might have looked quite fearsome, indeed. This way, Star thought he looked rather nice.

It was hard to tell if he returned the feeling. On seeing her clearly for the first time, he immediately raised his eyebrow and gripped the bars of his cell more firmly.

"I feel I've seen you somewhere before," he said suspiciously. "Who are you?"

Star shrugged. "I share faces with my father, I'm told."

The boy looked very sullen. "So," he grumbled, pushing away from the bars and staring at the floor, "you're the Titan's kid. I might have known you'd find your way here, eventually."

He was trying to appear cold and unemotional. Star could tell that really, he felt terrible and deeply conflicted. He didn't want to face her, any more than her father did. Unwilling to let this meeting go just as poorly, she stepped forward and placed her own hands on the iron bars, where his had been before.

"This isn't exactly comfortable, I know," she began, not sure how to start this conversation.

"Tell me about it," the boy remarked, rolling his eyes, but still not looking at her.

"I have a plan—or an idea for one, anyway. Your men came here and took my mother, yes, I know. That is hardly important anymore. I mean to follow them and get her back, if I can."

At last, the boy was moved to shift his eyes back to her. "Do you, now?"

"What do you expect me to do? Languish here like my father and everyone else?" she asked, a little more sharply than she had meant to. "They have no intention of doing anything helpful in particular, but I know better. It _can_ be done. I've seen it. I know it. And I know that you can help me."

Now the boy turned and faced her fully, interested in spite of his bad mood. "You think I would do such a thing? And what would you do for me, in return?"

"Get you out of here, obviously," she answered incredulously. "Why else did you think I came here? I had to break into this place! Why would I go to all that trouble just to grab what I would carry and run, when I could do everyone a favor?"

The boy leaned against the wall and smirked smugly. "By setting me loose? I don't think your father's people would call that a favor, exactly."

"I'm not just setting you loose. I'm taking you home."

"Home?"

"Yes, home—to the Zebak lands. It's where you came from, and it's where I'm going. Seeing as you are trapped in our jailhouse, awaiting execution, and I know nothing of your place, it would be beneficial for us to help each other, don't you think?"

The boy was stunned, and perhaps even alarmed. "…All this, for the sake of one person?"

"My mother! That one person is my mother! Everyone else has given her up, it seems, but I will not! Not when I know something can be done to save her."

"Okay, okay," the boy insisted, holding his hands up in surrender. "Take it easy. I didn't mean it that way, honest. I've just… We don't normally go to such trouble for each other. If we did, my brothers would have come back for me by now."

Star's anger died as suddenly as it had risen. Of all the things she had considered about this stranger, it had never dawned on her that he, too, had been taken by his greatest enemy. He, too, had friends and family, who were no doubt worried sick over what had become of him, who had just as little hope of getting him back.

The two were silent for a long moment, regarding one another in a new light. All at once, it seemed that they understood each other. Star wouldn't have said that they were friends; but in that moment, she could tell that they were on the same small team. In that long, silent moment, they became allies.

The boy came back to stand just behind the bars and gripped them right above her hands, looking her face over as if searching for something. Star gazed back at him, and saw at once what she was looking for. There was cunning and ferocity in his face, yes; but there was goodness in his violet eyes. He hardly seemed the dragon she had prepared herself to face. Mostly, he was just a confused and frightened young man, little different from the confused and frightened young woman she was.

After a moment, he nodded his head, as if he had found was he was looking for and was satisfied.

"It sounds strange, but I've made the decision to trust you," he said. "I have no idea what you mean by all this talk of plans and knowing things, but you have a look about you. I can't explain it for the life of me, but… I think I like it."

"I could say the same of you," she answered, feeling moved to smile for him. She imagined it was the first smile he had seen in a long time. To her relief, he returned it. His smile was wry, and even a bit sly, but it was still a smile. It was progress.

"You know, they never mentioned your name," she said. "What is it?"

His smile grew a little more sincere, as if the question had pleased him. "Zan. Zan Garased. What's yours?"

"Star."

"Star, what?"

She blinked in puzzlement and shrugged. "Just Star, daughter of the Titan Rowan and Zeel of the Plains, hopefully historian of Rin in days to come. I don't know what more there is to say."

"Ah, yes," Zan said faintly. "Your people don't make use of family names. That is strange to me."

"Family names?"

"Never mind that for now," Zan said briskly, running his hand through his hair. "I'll tell you more later. After you've gotten me out of this accursed cell, and we're well on our way back… home."

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There turned out to be little need for sneaking or much caution. The streets were still deserted, and the noise of loud and angry discussion was still echoing from the crowd in the square. All the same, Star led Zan back to her house through side-streets and back alleys. They were fugitives now. If they were seen by anyone, they would both be done for.

 _I think I'd rather just be cut down on the spot with Zan, than have to face papa like this,_ she thought as they crept through the quiet village. _Honestly, I think I'd rather stick my head down a Dragon's throat, than sit through any punishment papa could come up with. He would never trust me with anything again. And frankly, I don't have time to be waylaid like that. Not when this is going so well._

It actually would have been perfectly safe to speak of Star's great idea of a plan while they walked, but of course they were too wise to take that chance. As it was, she could tell that Zan was on edge. He stalked along beside her in silence, rigid and alert, his eyes darting in every direction for signs of danger. His nervousness was infectious, too. Star found herself jumping slightly at every sudden noise or movement; when all those proved to be scurrying mice, chirping birds, or just insects buzzing past her ears, she couldn't help feeling a bit foolish. She wondered if Zan felt the same every time this happened.

He had cleverly devised a plan of his own for in case they were caught, before they left the jailhouse. If someone did catch them, he had insisted firmly that she stop what she was doing and pretend that he had escaped on his own, and that she had happened to catch him, herself, on her way home. He had decided to pretend to attack her, and that it would make her look completely innocent. He would be detained again, and she would go free to carry out her rescue mission, and no one would need be the wiser. Star hadn't liked this plan, but Zan had refused to go with her until she promised to play her part if she had to.

She would have liked to ask why he would do such a thing for her, but there hadn't been time. She had simply resolved to ask him when they were safe at her house. They already had so much to discuss, and so many questions for each other.

When they had passed the gardens without being seen, Star finally felt like it was safe to speak in low voices. She couldn't wait any longer than she had to.

"I'll need a moment to grab some things," she said. "While I do that, we'll discuss how best to get into the city. You can clean yourself up, if you want to, then. And there is still tea and a plate of cookies in the kitchen. My father will busy for a while, and I don't expect he will be back for another few hours, at least. All the same, we should work quickly if we want to escape his wrath."

"I've been thinking of this grand homecoming, myself," Zan commented. "How exactly do you expect to get there, in the first place? It's a long walk to the coast; and I would be surprised if anyone there was willing to give us a boat, no matter what we offered."

"Oh, that hardly bears thinking," she answered, grinning proudly. "Mum and papa had to get back here from there somehow. Surely you've heard of it?"

Zan glanced at her in surprise. "I've heard they flew on a hijacked working grach. But surely you don't mean to say you still have it?"

"Unos lives with my granny now, just on the other side of the orchard. I see the creature at least twice a week, and have even flown on her back in the past. She flies far more frequently than she used to, and her wings are quite strong now. I don't know how pleased she will be to be going back to the place she came from; but she has made the journey before, and will obey nearly anyone for a good apple or two."

Zan scratched his head. "Huh. I'd have thought your people would have done away with the beast as quickly as they could. A grach must seem terribly out of place here." He looked meaningfully out toward the fields beyond Star's house, where the bukshah were still milling anxiously.

"Yes, she does stand out," Star agreed. "But Unos has proved to be very useful to have around. Besides, my aunt and uncle never would have stood for it, and neither would granny. It's complicated. Remind me to tell you the whole story sometime."

"Well, that solves one problem, I suppose. There are many others to think of, though. You seem to think that flying unannounced into Habaharan will be easy."

"Habaharan?"

"The great city I hail from, where your mother has been taken, where you plan to go. If my eldest brother thinks hard enough, he came remember a time when our wall was patrolled by a single squadron, and then only by day. Things have changed since then. The wall is guarded now by night as well as day, by legions of men and women like myself. It would have been easy for your parents to slip through the cracks, in their time. It won't be for us."

"What do you think we should do, then?"

"No idea. Let me have a few of those cookies you mentioned, first. I haven't eaten since morning, and would rather think on a full belly than an empty one."

Star could respect that. She, too, hadn't eaten in hours; and by the time Annad had pointed out that plate of cookies, she had been too sick with grief to even look at them. Now that all that excitement was out of the way and an adventure was on her doorstep, she realized that she was starving.

The house she had grown up in stood alone at the end of the lane, as it always had, and there was little else she could have led Zan to. When they finally reached it and she opened the door for him, he stood still for a moment, appraising it from top to bottom with a look of disbelief.

"I hadn't really seen it from the outside," he said vaguely as he stepped inside. "It seems smaller than I recall."

"It's slightly smaller than the other houses in the village, but we do alright. We hardly need much," Star answered, following him in and locking the door behind them. She turned back to her guest and found him gazing around the kitchen in confused awe, as if he had never been in a house before.

"Incredible," Zan muttered, planting his hands on his hips and shaking his head. "I never thought that such a thing could do. The Titan of Fire lives in a palace half the size of this village. I wouldn't have dreamed that a Titan would settle for anything so very small."

Star couldn't help but laugh at the idea. "What on earth does one do with a palace that size? You couldn't possibly fill such a space!"

"I guess you wouldn't think so," he answered, rubbing his arm uncomfortably, still looking around the humble kitchen. "It just seems so ordinary. You would think a person as extraordinary as a Titan would wish for something a little grander. Demand it, even."

"Papa isn't exactly a grand sort of person," Star said thoughtfully. "Really, he would have been perfectly happy with a hut in the forest. But it's hard to care for a wife and children that way, and so he lives in a house, like normal people with families do. And anyway, he should be easy for the people to find. It's why he is Titan."

Zan looked up and made a very doubtful face. "You will be in for many nasty shocks, I'm afraid. Our Titans do things, well, a bit differently, you will find."

Star sighed and straightened herself. "Bother the Titans," she said crisply. "They aren't important right now. The plan is important. I've got a mother to rescue, and you've got brothers to get back home to. We'll never do all that if we don't get organized. Please, sit down, Zan. The cookies and tea are all there on the table, where I left them. Help yourself, while I find paper and a pen."

She didn't waste time to see if Zan would seat himself right away, or continue to marvel at her home. She strode out and down the hall to her father's study, where she could find what she needed.

Right away, she found more than just what she needed. While she hadn't been there, someone had returned her satchel, stuffed nearly to bursting with full notebooks, pens and ink, and the precious first draft of the Book. Much preferring to use her own things than her stubborn father's, she snatched up her bag and went back to the kitchen.

She returned to find Zan munching placidly on a cookie, staring thoughtfully onto space while he waited. When she walked into the kitchen, partly hauling her full satchel, she found she had his full attention.

"When you said 'paper and a pen', I didn't expect a whole library," he said, eyeing the bulging bag on her shoulder.

"It _is_ a whole library, in fact, thank you very much," she answered smartly, heaving the satchel onto the table and digging around inside it. "Many of us had gone to Maris for trading, as we do every year, and I had joined them to study in the library there. We had only just arrived back a little while ago."

They paused briefly to think about that as she fished out a mostly empty notebook. She had been home for just barely two hours, and already she was preparing to leave again. She was so frustrated with nearly everyone in the village, she could hardly wait to be gone again.

While she went on pulling things out of her bag, Zan went back to staring into space. Then he sighed and hung his head a bit.

"Three days is a long time to sit alone, thinking about all the terrible things you've done," he said quietly. "Coming here wasn't fun, you know. Central has us tearing our own people apart for entertainment, and that's terrible enough. But what did these people ever do to us? What did you do to deserve this? It's not right, what we did. But what else were we supposed to do?"

Star had paused again, listening. She had suspected from the moment she had seen him that there must have been a reason behind this mess, and that it couldn't really be his fault. The goodness she had seen in him didn't match it well. She knew he wouldn't appreciate her sympathy, but she felt truly sorry for him.

Zan trailed off and glanced up at her apologetically. Then he shook his head and laughed bitterly.

"I know, I'm babbling like a lunatic," he went on. "What I meant by all that was that I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry that this happened to you, Star. Anyone as foolishly kind as you doesn't deserve this. And anyone as spineless as me doesn't deserve forgiveness."

"Don't say such things," she insisted, unsure of how he could hate himself so much. On an impulse, she reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her in surprise, unable to believe she had touched him.

"Of course I forgive you," she said, sitting in the chair beside him. "You're helping me make it right, aren't you? When you say how sorry you are, I believe you."

"You do? How is that?"

"I just… Do."

"Hm. I suppose I'll have to accept that for now."

Star supposed that she would just have to do the same. Somehow, she realized, lots of things suddenly seemed clearer to her. It felt like all her senses had sharpened a bit, including her finer ones. She wasn't sure how or why she was so willing to trust this young man, who had caused her so much pain. All she could say for certain was that he _was_ trustworthy, and that it was right to show him faith. Just as the prophecy had told her to.

 _The prophecy… I'll have to think more on that later. We have work to do._

With that touching moment behind them, Star cleared her throat and opened her notebook to a blank page.

"Here, use this and draw me a map," she instructed, handing him a pen and ink as well. "Nothing elaborate—just the city, the wastelands, and the coast, so I can see it."

"So much for nothing elaborate," Zan said dryly, his normal self returning as he began to sketch rough shapes on the paper. "There are only two ways into Habaharan: either over the wall, or through the main gate from the coast road," he explained as he continued to sketch. "The latter would be our best bet. If we landed near the docks and separated briefly, it would give you the chance to disguise yourself while I appear by myself. It will look as if I made a daring escape on my own. Surprised people will ask for the important details of the story, which I can make up on my own. It will seem to explain everything."

"Then I would just join you later, and we would make our way into the city together."

"It would make sense, too. The city is an hour's march from the docks, and not the safest place to travel alone. It would be a simple and common enough story. A young woman trying to sell fish in the city, traveling in the safe company of a Central Control guard. Again, not a lot of questions to be asked."

"Excellent. So all I need to do is find some fish to sell, and the story will be complete."

"Hm. That is a good point. We may just have to cross that bridge when we come to it. The ship yard is a shady place. Misunderstandings do happen. And I may not be through with my training yet, but I'm still of Central Control; I'll be the returned hero of a grand escape from our enemy, no less. There are many things I can make happen. I hate to think of being that way, but… It seems we have no other choice."

"We'll pay them back later, when you're famous," Star suggested. Zan smiled, though it was hard to tell if he was enjoying her sarcasm, or if he thought she was being naively hopeful.

"It isn't much of a plan, and there's plenty of room for things to go hilariously wrong; but for being thrown together in a hurry, it is sound in theory. I fear for what could happen in practice, though. And, not that I don't appreciate what you've done for me, but I've barely known you for an hour yet."

Star grinned at him. "I've barely known you for an hour, either. That makes two of us."

Zan looked puzzled again. "I can't make heads or tails of you, Star of Rin. I don't think I've ever met a person quite like you."

Star propped her elbows on the table and reached for a cookie. "That's because I am the only _me_ there is."

Zan clearly wasn't sure how to respond. He returned his attention to his untidy sketch and tapped the pen impatiently on it, as if he had left something out of it and was trying to remember what it was. Meanwhile, a cookie still in one hand, Star began to unload the rest of her notebooks, stacking them neatly on the table.

 _I can't take all of these with me, though I would like very much to. Anyway, I copied all these notes for the people here to see. I'll have little use for them where I'm going. And it will please papa to have them in my absence. Maybe he will prefer their company to mine, seeing as they won't argue with him._

At the bottom of her bag she found the Book. She took the tome out and held it in her arm, lovingly admiring it. For all its flaws and all the work to still be done on it, it was her greatest accomplishment so far. She had worked so very hard on it, for almost a year. She had made it perfect. All she had to do now was make it look pretty for others to enjoy.

She nearly set the Book on the table with her stack of notes; except Zan looked up, saw her admiring it, and tilted his head in curiosity again.

"What's that?" he asked with his mouth full.

"It's a book I've written," she answered slowly. "My father went on several amazing adventures when he was our age, before he was Titan. The stories are wonderful, and the lessons we've learned from them about our land are priceless, and so I wrote them all down this year. It's been an adventure, itself."

She could see by the gleam in Zan's eyes that he was interested. "It sounds like a worthwhile read. You'll have to share it with me sometime."

Star looked back down at the Book, so nearly left behind, and held it a little closer. "Yes, I will have to do that, won't I," she agreed, and put the Book back in her satchel. She peeked into one of the side pockets to make sure her gleaming pen was still in place; seeing it where she had left it yesterday was reassuring. There was a great feeling of rightness about it.

Only then did it occur to her that she might be writing the final draft in the city of Habaharan. She had always planned to finish that work here, in Rin, surrounded by people who supported her. But who even knew when she would see the village again? In weeks? Months? Years? The thought was daunting, so she shoved it aside, with all the other troubling thoughts she had no time for.

"I suppose I should pack a few things," she said, mainly to herself. "Food, and spare clothes, and the like. And should like to say goodbye to Treasure, and to granny, before we run off, but I don't know if we can risk that much time…"

"Who's Treasure?"

"He leads the heard now," she answered, pointing to the kitchen window. "Just take a look out there. He's the only black bukshah we have; you can hardly miss seeing him."

Zan stood up and went to look out the window.

"Amazing," he murmured. "They tell tales of these beasts at the academy. War stories, you know? I had always pictured them much larger, and their horns longer and sharper. Reading our veteran's accounts, you would think your bukshah had been bred for war as much as our fighting grach. But they don't look so dangerous to me."

"That's because they aren't. A five-year-old child can lead them easily. Aside from being gentle, they are trusting creatures. They… Know us, in their hearts, I think. They were here long before the Valley of Gold ever existed, and I suspect they will be here long after Rin has ended."

"That is a very long time."

"It is eternity."

Star felt that those words had come from somewhere in her heart that she had never used before. She wasn't exactly sure where such wisdom, or such certainty, had come from. She looked inward, trying to find where that part of her was, exactly, so she might tap into it more often; but she couldn't find it.

"I don't quite know what you mean," Zan commented, looking as confused as she was.

"Oh well, I don't quite know what I mean, either," she shrugged.

Out of the blue, there was a loud knock on the door. Star and Zan both jumped a bit, partly paralyzed with shock at the sound. They were still for a moment, hoping that perhaps if they pretended to not be there, the person at the door might go away.

Instead, the knocking came again; and this time, a familiar voice came with it.

"Star, come to the door. We know you're there."

"Alanis," Star muttered. "Zan, you have to hide. Quickly! She won't go away until I've answered her."

Looking faintly annoyed again, Zan squared his shoulders and darted toward the hallway. "Back into the coat closet it is, then," he muttered back. Once he had slipped into the closet and shut himself inside, Star did her best to hide any trace of having a plan from her face, trying to replace it with the look of despair her cousin would be expecting.

It was hard, though. She was normally good at fibbing, even to people she was close to. For some reason, forcing the hope and enthusiasm she felt off her face was difficult today. As she went to open the door, she had to settle for a blank face, with no emotion at all. It was the best she could muster for now.

When she opened the door, she was not entirely surprised to see that Forley and Leah had come with Alanis to see her. Of course they would have. But they were only going to take up more of her precious time, and she couldn't help being slightly peeved. Frankly, all three of them looked a bit peeved, themselves. Even Forley was grave, and it was unnerving.

"Hello," she greeted as forlornly as she could.

"Where is he?" Alanis demanded immediately.

Star felt her heart jolt with shock. "Where is who?" she asked, hoping she sounded genuinely clueless.

Leah put her fists impatiently on her hips. "The Zebak boy you broke out of the jailhouse, obviously."

Star was stunned. How on earth had they known? Instead of thinking up a reasonable lie, all she could do was stare at them with wide eyes.

"What? How could you—why ever would I—I have no idea what you're talking about," she babbled, crossing her arms defensively, as if the accusation had hurt her.

Alanis sighed. "Star, don't bother lying to us. We know what you did. We watched you do it, for pity's sake! How foolish do you think we are?"

There was a lot that Star wanted to say to that. She would have liked to snap at her cousins for spying on her. She would have liked to speak in Zan's defense, if they would bother hearing her out. She would have liked to assure them that there was a reason for everything, and to explain her plan.

But all that she said was, "How?"

"Da was worried about you, and rightly so," Forley said flatly, pushing past her into the house. "When you stormed off a while ago, he suggested I follow you. He feared you might not go straight home, I suspect; I had a similar fear, myself."

"Alanis and I felt the same," Leah continued for her brother, coming to join him. "We felt it best to go with him and stop you from doing anything foolish. We were all right to be concerned, it seems."

The brother and sister's faces were difficult to read. It would have been easy to say that they felt neutral about the situation; but Star knew better. They must have felt _something_ , but it was impossible to tell exactly what it was. Alanis was an entirely different matter. She looked cross and disappointed, and very much like her own father. Star couldn't really blame her, and it made her feel slightly guilty.

"So I am going to ask you again," Alanis said tightly, crossing her arms, "where is he?"

Star let her poor attempt at a mask fall from her face. The excitement over her plan and the frustration she now felt were plain for them to see. She didn't want to pull Zan into the middle of this, but it seemed that neither of them had a choice. She glanced sullenly over her shoulder, toward the hallway.

"Zan, you're going to have to come out here," she called to him, knowing very well that he had heard everything.

Zan inched cautiously out of the coat closet, his hands on the back of his head. He may have been trying to appear awkwardly casual and nonthreatening; or it may have been a show of surrender. In either case, he looked truly frightened.

Star thought once again that he looked like any other, very normal person. Forley and Leah were staring at him in fascination, probably marveling at how he hadn't attacked them yet. Alanis was glaring at him coldly, clearly unwilling to trust him. Zan flicked his eyes from one to the next, trying to gauge them, waiting for one of them to speak instead of just watch him warily.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" Alanis asked abruptly, not taking her eyes off him.

"Zan is his name," Star answered, wondering at her cousin's reaction as she turned to her guest. "Zan, these are my cousins."

He mumbled nervously in greeting, only to jump in surprise when Forley poked him in the shoulder. Pleased with the look on Zan's face, Forley poked him again, aiming for his forehead this time. Zan batted his hand away and took a few steps back.

"Why are you doing this? Stop it!" he demanded, holding his arm protectively in front of himself, scowling and looking more like they would have expected a Zebak to look.

Now extremely pleased, Forley grinned to his sister and said, "Yes, he is human, after all."

Leah couldn't help laughing softly at her brother, and even Alanis had to smile faintly. It was good to see Forley being more himself again. But Star couldn't quite share the feeling, and neither could Zan. Mostly, they were just terribly confused.

"So," Alanis said, turning a more serious face on Star, "let me guess: you plan on running off to the Zebak lands to rescue your mother. It's why you broke this boy out of the jailhouse, is it not? So you would have a guide to help you. Not at all a bad idea, I have to admit. A better idea than my brother ever started off with, which isn't saying much."

Star saw no reason to try and make up excuses. If they had been following her so closely, of course they had guessed what she was up to. So she shrugged and answered, "Well, someone had to follow in his exalted footsteps. If he can't be bothered to do it himself, then I guess it's all up to me."

Alanis sighed with pretended sadness. "That's what we thought," she said tiredly, striding to lean on Forley's shoulder. "And to think, you were going to leave without saying goodbye, or asking us for help."

"Insulting," Forley added, shaking his head. "Whoever heard of Rowan going anywhere without one or other of our fathers somewhere nearby to supervise things? Such a thing never did for them, and so it simply won't do for us."

The comment struck a chord with Star. Seeing her cousins standing together, she noticed for the first time that all three of them had light packs slung over their shoulders. Leah had traded the skirt and soft shoes she had been wearing for sturdy trousers and heavy boots. Alanis had a sword strapped to her belt.

They hadn't come to stop her at all. They had come to join her.

"And don't even think of talking us out of it, because it can't be done," Leah said quickly, before Star could protest. "We know how little good it does arguing with you, once you've set your mind to something. We've decided to just be as stubborn as you, this time. We _will_ be going with you, one way or another."

Normally, Star would have done just what Leah had told her not to do, and insist on them giving this up because it wasn't their mission to go on. But she suddenly remembered the Book, and all the times her own father had begged his friends to stay out of his troubles, and all the times that it hadn't worked. He had needed his friends with him, whether he had known it or not. Much like the elements themselves, he never would have succeeded at anything if he had acted alone.

 _And we are four parts of a whole, ourselves,_ she remembered, smiling at the thought.

"I would never ask you to stay behind," she said brightly. "Zan and I could certainly use your help."

Zan shot her that doubtful face again, clearly not pleased that their party had suddenly grown from two to five. Star elected to ignore him.

"It's not like you were the only one with great ideas," Forley commented, his face falling again. "Upon hearing the whole story, I had half a mind to go running off alone on a grand adventure, myself. After some discussion, Alanis agreed that she had the same thought. And of course we knew that we could count on you to put an idea that dangerous into action."

"So we talked it over, and decided to surprise you as badly as you surprised us," Alanis concluded. "We went back to our own homes to pick up some things, and then came to meet you here. It hardly took long, as nothing was unpacked yet, and now we are perfectly ready to go. We assume that you've found yourself much the same. When do you intend to leave?"

Star glanced at Zan, who was still displeased with how things had changed. Having nothing to add, he just shrugged unhelpfully.

"In a few minutes, I suppose," she answered at last. "All that's really left is to get Unos. That may take time, though. I don't know how granny will feel about parting with her for so long; but I'm sure I can convince her, in the end."

"Then get to it, already," Leah said, shooing her toward the door. "Before someone wanders away from the crowd and catches us."

Seeing an excuse to get away from the newcomers, Zan attempted to go with her. Before he got very far, Alanis clamped a hand on his shoulder and stopped him short.

"You're going to stay right here with us," she informed him. "I've got a lot of questions for you, and so help me, you _will_ answer them."

Unable to resist such a firm command, Zan went a bit stiff and nodded shakily. He wasn't aware of Alanis' usual seriousness, and that she honestly meant nothing by it than exactly what she had said; to him, it must have been frightening.

Star didn't like to leave him here like this, at the mercy of Alanis' gruffness and Forley's teasing, but she knew there was no choice.

"Never mind her, Zan, she doesn't bite," she insisted. "And I'll be back soon. I'm not coming back without our ride, so be ready for me."

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Star wove in and out of the trees as fast as she could, not wanting to waste any more time than had already been wasted. The square was far away, and she could no longer hear the buzz of conversation there. It was hard to tell if the meeting had already ended and the crowd had dispersed, or if the people had merely quieted down. Not knowing made Star terribly anxious, and she tried to move a little faster.

 _The last time I went this way, I was going to ask granny for advice before I went on the biggest adventure of my life,_ she thought. _I had promised to come home and tell her about all the amazing things I had done. How small that adventure seems, compared to this…_

She didn't waste any thought wondering if Sheba would know to expect her. Of course the woman would know she was making her way through the orchard, coming to ask if she could take Unos and make no promises to return her. She didn't have anything to offer in return, either, and that bothered her.

For certain, Sheba knew about Zan, and the plan they had made, and everything else that had happened in the last hour. What was she going to say about it all? Would she be too frightened and unsure to see reason, or would she understand? Had she heard and accepted Fate's call, or was she determined to resist it?

By the time she reached the clearing, she still didn't know what she was going to say when she met Sheba. And just as she had suspected, she saw the old woman waiting in the middle of the clearing, watching lovingly as Unos munched on the grass.

It seemed that she was enjoying the sight of her companion for one last time, remembering all the time they had shared. Star could already see the sadness in the woman's worn face, but she also saw an odd kind of peace.

Star burst out of the trees and into the clearing, panting a bit. Unos, who hadn't been expecting her, was of course pleased to see her appear so suddenly. It was hard to tell how Sheba felt, though. Her face was filled with warring thoughts and feelings, and hard to read properly.

The woman was silent for a long moment, and so was Star. It felt as if somehow, they were having a sort of silent conversation, and understood each other perfectly well. In fact, in the simple meeting of their eyes, she felt like those seconds of silence spoke louder and clearer than any words could have.

All of Star's hopes and fears and suspicions were there in the look her granny gave her. Of course she knew the prophecy, the plan, and everything to do with it. And of course she understood what had to be done. She was afraid of what might happen in the days to come, and she was afraid for Star. She didn't care for sending off her two favorite companions, but she saw that there was no choice.

She understood it all, and was willing to help.

Caring nothing for the surreal and magical moment they were sharing, Unos plodded up to Star, as she always did, and nuzzled her face enthusiastically. It had been a month since they had met, and the grach had clearly missed her very much. Star was so moved, she wrapped her arms around the creature's neck and hugged her tightly.

Sheba laughed without humor at the sight of them. "She might not be so pleased, if she knew where you plan on taking her, Mahna. It's a cruel thing being asked of her, and you, and all of you children. Why Fate should go on demanding the lives of our little ones is a thing I would like greatly to know."

Star released Unos and walked slowly to stand beside Sheba one last time. It was funny, she thought. Only moments ago, she had felt like she was running out of time, and couldn't move fast enough. Now, time seemed to have slowed back to walking pace. She had stood here with Sheba so many times in her life, speaking peacefully of magic and pleasant things. There weren't many things she would have spared so much time for, in this hour. Saying goodbye to her granny, one of the only people in Rin who had believed her, was one of those precious, precious things.

"I know I promised to stay longer granny. I'm so sorry it has to be like this."

Sheba took the girl's nimble brown hands in her own weathered ones, and gave them a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"Don't worry yourself over that, little one; I already know it all. I only wish we could have discussed it all in person. It is dreadfully unfair. But you are right, indeed. There is hardly time to be sentimental, when you have so much work to do."

She looked gravely into Star's eyes. The girl saw tears there, and felt tears of her own prickling her eyes.

"Oh, it is unfair, I say," Sheba sighed, sounding caught somewhere between annoyance and sorrow. "For I am afraid I must tell you, we will not meet again in this life."

Star didn't care if there was no time to be sentimental. Her lip trembling, she pulled her granny into a fierce hug, wishing that time would just stop its terrible march for a moment.

"I will miss you."

"And I will miss you. But fear not, my Mahna. You are a strong and willful young person, and you are made of the stars, themselves. You will do well, I am sure. Even if this army of bumbling fools is too afraid to know it, I will know it enough for them all."

It was a beautiful moment of farewell; but Sheba was unused to being hugged, and quickly straightened herself so she could face Star squarely again.

"I will take care of things here, child. Your father will be a pain, but we will understand, in time. He has hurt you, and it is far from right; but you know he is only doing what any father would do in a moment of trouble. Try not to be too upset with him."

"I will try," Star agreed tightly. Going through with the plan had been much easier when she had been furious with her father. Now guilt was starting to settle in her heart. She hadn't even said goodbye to him. She simply couldn't. None of her cousins had said goodbye to their parents, either. The pain they would cause would be unbearable. It was an awful thing to have to do, but there was no way to help it.

"Don't think of that for now," Sheba insisted, gesturing toward Unos. "Take the beast, and go rescue your mother. If anyone can do it, it is you. Now go and have your adventure, at last."

Tearing herself away from that safe place was hard. So hard. Star had to force herself to move away, back toward the trees. She brushed at her eyes and clicked her tongue, summoning Unos to follow. The grach hissed in pleasure, happy to follow the girl she trusted anywhere she led.

Nothing stood in her way anymore. The last piece of the plan was in place, and time was beginning to rush forward again. All the same, Star paused a final time to look over her shoulder and wave feebly behind her.

"Goodbye, granny."

"Goodbye, my dear Mahna. Remember to listen to your heart, and the voice of Fate, and you will not be led astray. Good fortune to you, and your companions, and may the stars speed you on your way."

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 _Afterthoughts…_

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 _ **IT'S OVER 9,000!**_

Behold, the longest chapter so far, in terms of words. This took me about a week, and that is an enormous relief to my soul.

I had thought of there being more—mainly concerning various parents freaking out considerably to find all their children missing—but I won't bore you with that. Instead, I'm going to treat you to an entire chapter from Zeel's point of view, because she, too, is having an adventure. ;D

Most of it is in glorious, glorious past tense, too….


	14. Chapter 14: The Dragon Queen

_Chapter 14: The Dragon Queen_

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The sky over Rin was bright and clear, say for a wisp of cloud here and there. Far away on the other side of the Silver Sea, the great city of Habaharan was covered by storm clouds, and torrential rain was pouring. No two places could have been more different from each other.

Zeel thought blankly of this, and of all the other ways the two places were so different, as she watched the rain through the one window of the cell she had spent the night in. She had much to think about; but the past few days had worn her out. She was running out of the energy to think of everything. And she was running out of the time to do it.

Things had gone poorly for her from the moment she had arrived in the city. At least they had, as far as she was concerned…

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The last thing she had seen was her husband falling unconscious on their back doorstep, as one of her captors hit him over the head. She had cried out in anger and alarm, only for another strong hand to be clapped over her mouth. The next thing she had known was the world suddenly dissolving around her, and a sense of nothingness surrounding her. But that nothingness had a feeling of raw, alien energy that felt strangely familiar, yet terribly wrong somehow.

And then there they were, someplace… Else. There had been brilliant firelight all around her, and a strong smell of spices and burning incense. She had been dizzier than she could ever recall being in her life before, and the overwhelming light and smell had been nearly painful to her. She had fallen on her hands and knees, wishing that she could breathe the fresh, sweet air of her home, instead of the thick, spicy air of this place.

All around her, it had seemed that her captors were in the same state. She had heard them groaning in similar discomfort, and had vaguely seen most of them falling over with her. They had hardly seemed threatening anymore.

"Oh my gracious," said a voice beside her. "My dear, are you well?"

The voice had sounded gentle and kind, but Zeel had heard falseness behind it. With it had come the touch of a soft but mighty hand on her shoulder, steadying her and trying to help her up. Her head had been spinning so she thought she might be sick; but she had been too curious not to force her head up. She had to see who was speaking to her.

She had found herself looking into the face of a beautiful Zebak woman. Brilliant red eyes had shone on either side of her mark, alight with curiosity and concern. Kneeling on the floor, her rich gown surrounded her like a flame-colored sea, scarlet and black, copper and gold. Her black hair had shone like fine silk in the firelight; and it must have been very long, because it had been curled and plaited elaborately round her head, and adorned with pins of pearl. The woman appeared completely perfect I every way. And she had radiated with a force that Zeel had known at once for the deep magic it was.

She had found herself facing Zadina, queen of the Zebak, Titan of Fire.

The reason behind all this nonsense had suddenly become clear. Zeel had wanted to say something very disrespectful; but she was still too shocked and too dizzy to speak at all. Seeing this, and making a show of being concerned, the queen had put her arms around her and slowly helped her to her feet.

"I see, so much excitement," the queen had cooed in her ear, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "You must be absolutely exhausted. I had a feeling you might be. I've taken the liberty of having quarters prepared for you, so you can rest. Oh, we simply have so much to discuss, when you are feeling better. I can hardly wait."

Before she could protest or demand an explanation, Zeel had found herself being led down a maze of well-lit hallways, with the queen chatting casually beside her. The woman had gone on speaking as if they were good friends and did this often; but Zeel had still been too confused to pay attention to what was said. In the back of her mind, she had been trying to memorize the twists and turns of the hallways, looking for landmarks she might use to find her way back to where she had started.

She had quickly seen that it was no use. All the hallways looked the same to her, though the queen obviously knew them well. The walls alternated between panels of solid, polished steel and solid, smooth marble. The marble panels all had heavy doors of carved wood bound in iron. The steel panels all had fixtures with burning oil lamps. Other than this, there had been nothing to see, and no way to tell one hallway apart from the next.

 _It is a perfect prison,_ she had thought grimly. _I will never find my way out by myself. And without a doubt, it has been planned this way. I am trapped, and alone._

After walking for several minutes, the queen had finally come to a stop before one of the marble panels, whose great wooden door had been guarded by a sentinel in a gray uniform. Seeing them approach, the sentinel had bowed stiffly in greeting and opened the door for them. The queen had taken little notice of it; she paid the man so little attention, the door might as well have opened of its own accord. But Zeel had noticed how the man had tactfully avoided looking at her. She hadn't been sure how to feel about that, or what it might have meant.

"I do apologize for the modesty of your accommodations," the queen had remarked a bit fretfully. "We prepared them as quickly as we could, to be ready for your arrival. I hope you don't mind it."

Zeel would not have called her accommodations _modest_ by anyone's standards. The room she had been led to had been palatial, and richly furnished. There had been a brightly colored rug that had covered most of the floor, a low table of mahogany surrounded by plush sitting chairs, and tapestries and mirrors hung on every wall. There had even been a fireplace, already lit and blazing cheerfully to welcome her. Another carved door nearby had seemed to show that this was merely the first of a few rooms, all apparently arranged for her in great haste.

The queen had led her to the second door, only to confirm her suspicion. That door had opened to reveal a bedchamber even grander than the parlor had been. The bed alone had to have been worth more than her house was; the frame had seemed to also be of mahogany, intricately carved with birds and swirling designs. It had been covered with more pillows than she had ever seen in one place, all of them overly stuffed and covered in velvet of many colors. An equally over-stuffed quilt had already been turned down for her, perhaps just to show off the gleaming, silken sheets underneath it. And the bed had been so big! She could have shared it comfortably with two or three other people.

There had also been a glorious vanity which seemed to have been made of solid gold with a sparkling mirror, and a much larger mirror and a lattice screen beside it. And there had been an impressive but empty bookcase which would have made her husband seethe with jealousy. Yet for all that, hardly any space had been filled in the large room. There had been other doors, as well; but it had been impossible to tell where they led to.

Zeel had surveyed all this finery with wide eyes, unable to really believe that it had been meant for her and her alone. The queen had shaken her head and clicked her tongue in disapproval.

"It isn't much, I know," she had said. "Normally, such a thing would never do for an esteemed guest such as yourself. When you are more settled, we will set to making it right, I promise. Oh, but as I said, you must be exhausted. Here, let us have you into a proper dressing gown and into bed, so you can rest."

The door had an iron hook on it, where a delicate nightgown of soft blue had hung daintily on a hanger. The queen had clearly meant for her to wear it, and had probably expected her to put it on without question. Zeel had glanced from it to the plain linen shift she had already been wearing, unable to see the sense in changing from one nightdress to another in the middle of the night. For everything that had happened to her so far, it had completely baffled her—enough so to help her find her voice.

"Thank you, but this one suits me perfect well," she had mumbled.

"Nonsense," the queen had answered, unmoved to hear her speaking at last. "One can't possibly have a good night's sleep in rags like those. Now come along, it will hardly take a moment."

Zeel had self-consciously hugged herself. Her shift certainly did seem plain, compared to the finery around her; but it had been a birthday present, and nearly new. She had loved it, and it had been one of the only pieces of home she'd had left. She'd had to suppose that after a life spent living so richly, the queen wouldn't know the difference.

But it had been clear that she would have no peace until she had changed. So she had grudgingly taken the blue nightgown and trudged behind the lattice screen.

And it had annoyed her to admit that the soft, silky gown was, indeed, far more comfortable than her shift. Still, as she had emerged from behind the screen, she had kept her shift clutched close. It had been so familiar and so comforting, she had refused part with it. She had supposed that she would hold it close as she slept, as a frightened child might hold a beloved toy.

Seeing her changed, the queen had smiled pleasantly and come to stand beside her. "Now, then, is that not better?" she had asked, gripping her by the shoulders and turning her to face the large mirror. "Oh, and that color does suit you beautifully. Far more than that thing you were wearing, don't you agree?"

Zeel hadn't liked it, but she had found no choice but to agree. The cloth had so fine she could barely feel it; and she had always liked this color blue. It was a rare color to find in Rin, but it went well with her eyes. If she had owned such a garment in Rin, it would have caused a scandal. Even the Travelers might have been alarmed to hear of her spending money on such a dress, meant only for sleeping in. Of course, she hadn't bought it all; it had been rather graciously presented to her, as a gift.

But she had felt that she had been forced to accept it, even though she hadn't wanted it. All she had done was stare at her very pretty reflection, marveling at how different she suddenly looked.

Satisfied, the queen had led her back to the bed and hurried her into it.

"And see how soft the sheets are," she had pointed out. "It will be as if you were sleeping on a cloud. You have never known such a thing, I shouldn't wonder. Comfort is a thing those folk in the west have no regard for. This must be a pleasant change for you."

"I would hardly say it is pleasant," Zeel had mumbled, rubbing the bedsheet between her finger and thumb. It had been as smooth as soft butter, and should have been very pleasant, but only felt alien to her.

A look of impatience had flashed across the queen's face, only to be replaced by a rather patronizing smile.

"That is the exhaustion speaking, I suspect. Do not worry, my dear, it will pass with the morning. When you wake, I will have arranged a few maids to attend you. They will assist you in any way you ask them to. They will be bringing you breakfast and clothes, and anything else you need. And if you require assistance before then, the guard will remain outside your door at all times. You will be well taken care of, my dear, I promise."

The queen had meant to sound considerate, even doting, of course; but Zeel had heard what she had really meant. She was to be watched every moment, and not trusted to be alone for any reason. She was, indeed, being held prisoner. Her prison had been more like a palace, but it was to be more secure and more complete than iron bars ever could be.

And the warden was a Titan—the most cunning and cruel of all the Titans there were. Disobedience and rebellion would be punished without mercy. She was to have no choice but to do as she was told to do immediately. The queen had been pretending to be patient, but there had been no way of knowing when she would grow tired of that mask, and decide to be herself.

 _I am trapped, indeed._

"Please, my dear, lay down and rest," the queen had insisted, helping her recline into the mountain of pillows. "We have a big day ahead of us, and we all need our strength. As I also said, we have a great deal to discuss in the morning. Ah, just think of all the things we have to share with one another! I believe you and I will get along quite well, Zeel Moakel. Just you wait and see."

"What did you call me?"

"Never mind that for now. Just sleep, and dream sweetly."

Zeel would have liked to wonder more about that. The queen hadn't called her once by name before. And what had she meant, calling her _Moakel_? What did that mean?

But the bed had been so very comfortable, and she had been so very tired. In spite of all that she had been faced with, she had fallen right into one of the deepest and best sleeps of her life.

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It had been impossible to tell what time it was when she finally woke. Zeel had opened her eyes to find that the lights had been put out, and that her chamber was nearly pitch black. For a long, horrible moment, she hadn't been quite sure where she was. She hadn't woken in her own bed, this much had been certain.

And then she had remembered what had happened—her abduction in the night, the maze of hallways, the queen's voice chiding in her ear, the blue nightgown—and that horrible moment had become even worse. She had sat up straight in shock, and a storm of emotion had surged through her like a gale. The terror and sorrow she felt were great, and she had thought that she might begin to weep in hopelessness.

Except a different emotion quickly rose to take their place, and that emotion was anger. It had grown quickly to simmering outrage, and it had dried up the tears that had threatened her. It had replaced that feeling of hopelessness with determination.

"She will not get away with this," she had muttered to herself, clutching the silken sheets in her fists. "I will simply have to be smarter than she is. I _will_ get home, somehow. I just need to figure out how to do it…"

Before she had been able to think much more of this, there had been a knock on the bedroom door. It had been so unexpected, she had jumped in surprise.

"Lady Moakel?" came an unfamiliar female voice. "Are you awake?"

There had been that word again, the last thing Zeel had really thought about before falling asleep. Still wondering what it meant, she had cleared her throat and smoothed her curls back, wanting to look more presentable for whoever was at the door.

"I am, you may come in," she called back.

The door had opened and a woman had walked in carrying a candle, followed by two others. Zeel hadn't been able to see them very well; but she had unsurprised to see by the candlelight that their faces were marked. The woman with the candle had given a polite curtsey, prompting her companions to do the same.

"Greetings, my lady," she had said. "I am Nia; this is Jess and Toma. We have been assigned to attend you, while you wish it."

Oh, yes. The queen had mentioned that she would be sending maids in the morning. Zeel hadn't quite believed it at the time. It had been hard to imagine needing assistance with anything. Yet here they were, prepared to do whatever she told them to do. She hadn't been sure how to respond to them at first. Feeling that she had been silent for too long, she had offered them a smile and nodded in greeting.

"Good morning," she had said. "I thank you for your assistance."

"Of course," Nia had answered plainly, setting the candle down on the vanity and moving to one of the tapestries on the wall. It had turned out that Zeel had only mistaken it for such; it had proved to be a thick, embroidered curtain. Nia had crisply pulled it aside and let in a stream of blinding sunlight. Zeel had blinked and shielded her eyes, surprised at its brightness.

"What time is it?" she had asked.

"Just past ten o'clock in the morning," Nia had answered, as if it made no difference. Zeel had been startled, and slightly ashamed of herself.

"However have I slept so late?" she had grumbled, rubbing her eyes.

All at once, the two other women had looked a bit frightened. Now that she could see them, it had been clear that really, Jess and Toma could hardly be called women. They couldn't have been much older than Alanis and Leah.

"We should have come to see to you earlier, we know," Jess had quavered. "But with all that has happened, we felt it wrong to disturb you. Please forgive us, miss, we won't let it happen again, we promise."

"No, no, it's really alright," Zeel had insisted in a more gentle voice, wondering why the girls had been so frightened. "You were right, I suppose I did need the rest, after all."

Nia had given the girls an imploring look and shook her head. "Now see, you've gone and upset the lady," she had scolded. "Jess, make ready that tray; lady Moakel will be famished by now. And Toma, bring in that trunk of clothes. We have much to do, if she is to meet with the queen."

Looking glad to be gone for a moment, the two girls had curtsied again and scurried to do their bidding. Then Nia had turned back to Zeel, and began pulling the bedsheet away.

"You will forgive them, I hope," the woman had said, helping her to her feet. "They are newly acquired, and still learning the ways of palace life. They will grow used to it in time, as you will. Now, just let me fetch your dressing robe, and let us get you to your breakfast."

"Oh, that is hardly necessary. I'm fine."

"I really must insist, lady Moakel," Nia had answered, crossing the room to one of the closed doors.

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

Nia had glanced over her shoulder in what seemed to be faint amusement. "As I said, you will grow used to it."

She had slid that door open on an invisible track to reveal a large closet, empty except for a robe of scarlet velvet. Nia had taken it out and dusted it off a bit, before returning and holding it open, waiting expectantly for Zeel to put it on.

"Come along, then," she had said when Zeel had hesitated.

"I'm really to eat in this?" Zeel had asked, reluctantly letting Nia help her into it.

"Certainly."

"What if I spill something on it? It will be ruined!"

"Then we will find you a new one, and it will be over and behind us. Now please, I beg you to come along and eat. We are losing time, and her majesty is not a patient woman."

Zeel had sighed in defeat, wondering at how her supposed servants were bossing her around.

In the parlor, Jess had standing beside one of the sitting chairs, with a covered silver tray and a beautiful teapot waiting on the low table. Toma had been hauling a brass-bound trunk toward the bedchamber, with the assistance of the guard from the night before.

"What's in that trunk?" Zeel had asked.

"Your wardrobe, for now," Nia had answered. "Her majesty had a few courtiers loan you some things, until you've been fitted for proper clothes. She was only able to guess at your sizes, and begs your pardon. We, too, hope you don't mind."

Zeel had sighed again and pulled her robe closer around herself. "I honestly don't know if I care. It's probably more clothing than I've owned in my life before."

Nia had cleared her throat nervously and ushered Zeel into her chair. "It's quite gracious of her, you know," the woman had insisted with a warning edge in her voice. "She wouldn't do this for just anyone, lady Moakel. It would be wise of you to show your gratitude."

"But I'm not grateful, not in the slightest! I've been kidnapped, and now I'm being held against my will."

Nia had pressed her lips together in a firm line. "You are fortunate to be held in the palace, then. You might have been held in the dungeons, instead. Think on that for a moment, while I pour your tea."

Zeel had thought about that for moment, indeed. It hadn't really occurred to her that she was in a palace; but now that she realized it, it boggled her mind. The quarters she had been granted were already so extravagant. How much more so were the chambers of the queen, herself? And how many other grand rooms must there have been? And how many people, too? She hadn't been able to guess at the real size of the building she was in; but she had suddenly imagined that she had only seen a small corner of it so far.

And Nia's comment about the dungeons had filled her dread. The woman had been right. There were far worse places to be held captive. While thinking of this, she had absentmindedly reached for her cup of tea—only for Jess to suddenly swoop down and hand it to her personally.

"Cream and sugar, my lady?" the girl had asked, as if in apology for not acting first. It had bothered Zeel for a second, before she had remembered that Jess had only been doing her job. Instead of becoming cross, Zeel had given the girl a smile.

"I would prefer honey, if you have it."

"Certainly," Jess had answered happily, pleased be of help. "I have it here, on the tray. Allow me, miss."

The girl had uncovered the tray, and Zeel had received another confusing surprise. By now, of course she had known better than to expect a simple bowl of porridge and berries, which had been her usual breakfast for many years. But she hadn't expected so many different foods in one place, or so much of it all for one morning meal. There had been beautifully poached eggs, slices of smoked meat, and fragrant toasted bread on the main plate, all carefully arranged by an expert hand. On another plate there had been slices of fresh fruits she had never seen before. There had also been dainty little saucers of jam, honey, butter, cream and sugar, just enough for the whole meal to be enjoyed. It had smelled wonderful, but it had been almost too beautiful to eat.

"Why, there is enough here to feed my whole family," she had exclaimed. "Who do they expect to eat all this?"

"You, I believe," Jess had answered sincerely.

"Have any of you eaten yet?"

"Oh, we eat in the kitchens, miss. I suppose Zalben hasn't eaten, though. He's been on guard outside your door all night."

"Then bring him back here and I will share some of this with him. He must be at least as hungry as I am, and I could never finish all this by myself."

Jess had gasped, as if Zeel had cursed. Nia had cleared her throat again and held her hands severely behind her back. "That will be quite enough, lady Moakel. He will eat when it is his time. He is of Central Control, and can stand to wait another hour or two."

Zeel had scoffed in disbelief. "That isn't right. If he has been so dutiful, he ought to be repaid."

"And he will be. Please, I beg you, just enjoy your meal, and stop worrying over us. It isn't your place."

"But it is! If you are to be my servants, then I have a duty, myself, to care for you in your turn. How could it be otherwise?"

No longer able to help herself, Nia had pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed heavily. "Surely you have noticed by now, that things here are done very differently than you are used to. You must accept this, and allow it. You are a very special guest in the palace, indeed; but you will not be able to change the way it is run. I trust you will stop fighting us over it, and let us attend you as the fine lady you are to become."

Zeel hadn't liked it, but she had seen that arguing with Nia was pointless. She had slouched sullenly in her chair while Jess had prepared her tea. When the girl nervously handed the cup to her, she had taken it with a smile.

"You don't have to be afraid of me, Jess," she had said in a kinder voice. "I didn't mean to be so sharp. This is all just… It hasn't been easy. I'm far from home, and my family, and everything I have ever known, in a place that I've honestly had many nightmares about. Forgive me if I seem impatient."

Jess had returned the smile and bowed her head. "If you don't mind my saying so, miss, I understand the feeling."

"Of course I don't mind it," Zeel had answered, ignoring the reproachful look Nia shot at the girl. Apparently, being personable to the servants was either unheard of or very dangerous here. She had sipped her tea, trying to draw solace from its warmth, and happened to glance at her hands. That had been where her next nasty shock had come from. And it had come so suddenly and painfully that she had nearly spilled her cup.

"My wedding ring is gone!" she had cried, jumping up in alarm. Her hand had instinctively flown to her neck, which was also bare. "And my necklace, too! Oh, where could they be? I have to find them!"

Ignoring Jess' gasping and Nia's protesting, she had darted back into the bedchamber and thrown herself onto the bed, throwing aside pillows and rummaging through the tangled sheets in a haze of panic. Her shift had also vanished mysteriously, and the loss was agonizingly crushing.

On the other side of the room, Toma and Zalben the guard had stopped unloading the trunk to watch her in fascination, unsure how to help her. Nia had come in after her, and pried her with some difficulty from the bed.

"If you please, try to calm yourself," she had begged. "If you will tell us what exactly you have lost, I'm sure we can find it."

"My wedding ring and necklace," Zeel had repeated, trying to lower her voice and speak calmly. "A band of gold with four jewels—a ruby, a sapphire, an emerald, and a diamond, in that order—and a cord of plaited yellow silk with a reed pipe. My husband made them for me, with his own hands! Nia, I have to find them!"

"Again, I say, calm yourself. Deep breaths, my lady, deep breaths. If they are in this room, we will find them. The girls and I will tear the room apart, if we must. And if we still can't find your things, Zalben will report a theft, and it will be dealt with orderly. There is no need for hysterics."

Zeel had wanted to snap that there was every need for hysterics. The only things she had left of her home had been taken from her while she slept. Of course she had been wearing them when she had fallen asleep, she had been sure of it. They had been treasures beyond price, and someone had stolen them. To be sold? To be paraded around is if they belonged to someone else? To be destroyed entirely? Who even knew? The very idea had filled her with rage and grief.

"Come back into the parlor and drink your tea, my lady," Nia had said gently, leading her back to her chair. "You will feel better, then. Jess, come in here, please. Toma, stop what you are doing, and help Jess find lady Moakel's things. They have been lost in the sheets, no doubt, or else fallen under the bed somewhere. Perhaps the queen herself removed them, and placed them safely in one of the vanity drawers, or some other obvious place. But do not stop your search until that ring and necklace have been found. Clearly the lady is upset over their loss. You don't want her filing a complaint, do you?"

At the mention of complaints, both the girls had gasped in fear and began pulling the sheets away in a fever of haste. If Zeel hadn't known better, she would have said that the girls were more panicked over her lost things than she had been, herself.

When Zeel was seated again and Nia begged her to eat, she had shaken her head. She had been hungry before, but now she could hardly look at her food. She had felt positively sick.

"Might I sit with you, my lady?" Nia had asked after a moment.

"Yes, of course. You hardly have to ask."

Nia had scoffed lightly at that, and had sat primly in the chair across from her, smoothing her skirt and apron neatly. "I believe you will find that I do have to ask. With any other courtier, it would be unheard of."

"Well I believe you will find that I am not any other courtier. I am Zeel of the Plains; adopted daughter of the Travelers; wife of Rowan, Titan of Earth; mother of Star—the genius, thank you very much. I am a hero. I am a legend. And I am no one's property to be ordered about."

Nia had looked alarmed, herself. "Impressive," she had said stiffly. "I would advise you to keep all that to yourself. There is much more I ought to advise, while I'm at it. Unless you wish a terrible fate on this family of yours, you would do well to hear it."

And so Zeel have been given a long list of customs she had not been prepared for, which she was expected to observe without question, along with an equally long list of things about her life she would be wise to not mention.

Most people in the palace had already been aware of where she had been all this time; but they were not aware that she was married. The few who did know it would act as if it had never happened to be known at all. Such a union would never be acknowledged by the Dragon Queen, and bringing it up would only lead to trouble.

While she was at it, she wasn't to mention Rowan at all, especially not by name. Aside from being one her hated hallowed brother, he was one of Zadina's least favorite people in the world. Speaking his name in her presence had been punished with death in the past; those who dared to mention Mithren or Doss by name had fared little better. Speaking of them at all, even in passing, was generally frowned upon, unless it was in malice and disrespect. This actually pleased the queen greatly, when she was in the right mood, but was not worth the risk.

She had also been told very firmly—nearly ordered—not to mention her daughter again. Zadina seemed unaware so far that Star even existed, and that was a miracle of its own. The Titans of Fire had always believed the Zebak to be a pure and perfect race, descended directly from a mighty Dragon; that strongly magical blood was not to be shared with others. Half-bred children had always been seen as the most wretched of abominations, and were to be destroyed immediately upon being found. Preferably by fire, Nia had explained without feeling.

Slavery the like of which she had only heard terrible tales of was everywhere. Having no enslaved foreigners to make the city run properly, the last few Titans had resorted to enslaving their own people. Nia had chuckled ruefully when Zeel had implied that she, Jess, Toma, and Zalben were merely hired servants, chosen for their skills and paid for their work. Nia had shaken her head and replied that she had been a slave all her life, and had never known freedom, and wouldn't have known freedom even if she had ever lived outside the palace. If she hadn't been sold to work here, she would have been sold to work somewhere else, she had said with a faint shrug. She was paid for her work by being allowed to live, and always had been.

Zeel had shivered at this, remembering the last awful time she had been here, and seen her own people toiling in the city's fields. It had never crossed her mind that those people might be slaves; and apparently, it had never occurred to Shaaran and Norris, either. They would have mentioned it long ago.

She had also learned the true story behind Central Control, and how it had been formed, and that not all the guards were as cruel as she had always been told. Common guards such as Zalben were remarkably normal people, forced to carry out terrible deeds against their wills. They were often threatened with their lives, and the lives of their loved ones, to make them obey orders. Nia had held little doubt that this had been the case with the men and women who had taken Zeel in the first place. Nia had insisted she try to be understanding and not wish them ill will, just because of their uniforms.

"Many of those gray jackets and black boots hide good hearts," she had said, almost sympathetically. "You will see them peeking through from time to time, in good men like Zalben. It is a blessing, many of us say."

As a courtier, Zeel was to observe all of this with disinterest, as the rest of her people had come to. In this place, one either owned other people, or was owned by someone else. At least, Nia had offered, she had found herself largely on the owning end of the deal, and it was hardly a bad position to be in. Zeel hadn't agreed with that; being expected to _own_ these people had been revolting. She had also been expected to deal harshly with them if they disappointed her in anyway, even if they fleetingly annoyed her. So it had been no wonder that Jess and Toma had been unable to relax, or that the threat of complaints had terrified them so badly.

"Yes, I must say, the turnover rate is remarkable," Nia had grudgingly agreed. "But that is the way of it, I suppose. This city has run on the backs of slaves like us for as long as our people can remember. Before it was your man's people, it was surely someone else. I can't say if we know how to do things differently. So perhaps it's just as well. When you have known no other life, it isn't such a bother."

To Zeel, who had known nothing but peace and freedom all her life, it sounded horrific. It had made her feel all sort of feelings, and think all sorts of thoughts. She couldn't imagine being so used to such a thing that it no longer felt or thought anything of it.

 _And I am expected to go about acting as though I don't,_ she had told herself grimly. _I shall just have to pretend for a while, then. Zadina is at home enough wearing a mask to fool me. Well, two can play at that game._

Another memory had come to her, of how she had once painted lamp grease down her face and fooled several of her cunning people perfectly. She had done it in a moment's panic, expecting that her disguise would be seen through right away; but no one had questioned her for even a second. It had been so much easier than it ought to have been.

She had passed it off as dumb luck, and then later as the will of Fate. Now she had begun to hope Zadina and her men were simply so vain that fooling them was just that easy. If so, she could do it again, just as easily.

 _But remember, it was a slip of the tongue that foiled you before,_ she had told herself. _If you had only guarded yourself better, you would have gotten away with that charade. This time has to be different. You must face it: you are a slave for now, and aren't allowed a second chance. You must pull it off this time. Your life and so much more depends on it._

A pause had settled between the two women. Zeel had sipped her tea, lost in thought; Nia had gazed with regret at the breakfast tray, which had gone cold. Wanting to do something helpful, Zeel had reached for a piece of toast and nibbled it slowly. She still hadn't found her appetite, but had known how little good it would do to go hungry. Besides, she hadn't been able to stand the thought of wasting so much food.

After a moment, Toma had crept into the parlor, wringing her hands nervously.

"I'm sorry, Nia, but Jess and I have searched the whole room. Even with Zalben's help, we haven't found anything like what the lady said. There isn't anything in the room we didn't put there ourselves yesterday."

Nia had rubbed her chin in puzzlement and glanced nervously at Zeel. Willing herself not to panic again, Zeel had merely sighed sadly and focused all the harder on her tea.

"Shall we send Zalben to report this?" Toma had asked.

"…No, don't," Nia had answered slowly. "Normally, I would have it done at once; but it may be best to keep this incident between the five of us, after all. Lady Moakel will only be pestered by inspectors and the like until the matter is resolved, and I doubt if she could handle so much stress right now. Not to mention what her majesty will do when she hears that her new favorite has been robbed. Yes, let us not speak of it again. I will see to it myself."

"Alone, ma'am?"

"As I said, Toma, it is perhaps better this way. I will see to it quietly and calmly, as I see to everything. Tell Jess and Zalben not to speak of it to anyone. Tell them to pretend it never happened, and take that message to your own heart. Lady Moakel, you agree, do you not?"

Zeel hadn't agreed, and had wondered what on earth Nia had been thinking of so carefully. But there had been a grave, silent look in the woman's face, begging her to just go along with her idea. So Zeel had nodded in vague agreement, and Nia had smiled in grim satisfaction.

"Very well, then, that has been decided," the woman had proclaimed, standing up and brushing her skirt back into place. "With that matter behind us, let us see to having the lady dressed and ready to meet her majesty."

She had pulled a tarnished watch from her apron pocket and shook her head disdainfully at it. "We will have to rush, I'm afraid. We're running behind now. Zalben, return to your post, young man; there is women's work to be done around here."

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Zeel had only been told all along that she was to meet Zadina, and so she had expected that they would be meeting alone. Her surprise had been unpleasant, then, when her maids had led her to a large music room filled with finely dressed people. Every one of them had been occupied with some kind of instrument, practicing and playing from books on iron stands.

But Zadina had stood out from the rest, of course. Rather than busying her lofty hands with an instrument, she had just been lounging on a couch, obviously waiting for Zeel to arrive. Seeing that her waiting was finally over, the queen had risen to her feet and held her arms open in welcome.

"There you are at last, my dear," the queen had said grandly, far too thrilled to see her. "We had wondered what was keeping you. The court has been dying to meet you."

On the contrary, the court had looked a bit displeased by her arrival. Most of them had stared rudely at her, and many of the women had looked disdainful. One of them had even wrinkled her nose at her. She had wondered if it was because they thought she had no place there without a mark of her own, or if they were jealous of the attention Zadina had showered on her. The queen had crossed the room and snatched her hands in her own, as if they were long-reunited family.

"Welcome, welcome, Zeel Moakel, welcome home," Zadina had sung, grinning almost honestly. She had put her arm her around her and pulled her farther into the room, grandly sweeping her hand over the crowd. "Meet your fellow courtiers, dear. Don't be shy, now, say hello to your new family."

The idea of these people being her new family had made her stomach churn, but she had kept the feeling well hidden. She had dipped as graceful a curtsey as she could, and did her best to smile. Perhaps she would be surprised by these people.

"Hello. It is lovely to meet you all," she had lied. "I thank you for having me."

She had been answered with cold silence.

"Oh, really," Zadina had scoffed at her court. "This is our lost one, returned to us at long last. How can you welcome her home like this? Don't be rude, now, welcome her!"

This time there had been a few mumbled hellos, and a few people had even bothered to wave passively. It was a better greeting than before. Zeel had decided to accept it for the moment.

"Never mind them," Zadina had insisted, leading Zeel back to her couch. "Some people are just so wary of change, you know? They will warm to you soon enough, I am sure. Tell me, Zeel do you play?"

"An instrument? Well, give me a reed pipe and I'll play you anything you like."

"A reed pipe? Why, how quaint," Zadina had laughed, stopping before a young man playing a magnificent silver flute and holding out her hand. "Give me that, Xander."

The young man had stared at her in surprise, but had handed over his instrument without hesitation. Zadina had looked it over briefly before handing it to Zeel.

"I'm quite sure this will suffice," the queen had said carelessly, returning to her couch. "Now play for us. Show us your skill. You must be quite good."

Zeel had stared doubtfully at the flute, not quite sure where to begin with it. It had been beautiful, and Xander had played it well; but it had been absolutely nothing like a reed pipe. It had been much longer, covered in small valves, and solid silver. It had looked more like some kind of strange machine than a musical instrument.

"You will forgive me, your majesty," she had laughed nervously, "but I have no idea how to play this. I've never seen one in my life."

The whole court had begun laughing behind their hands, entertained by her ignorance. Zadina had shrugged, as if she hadn't cared.

"I don't see the difference. You blow into one end, and music comes out the other end. How difficult can it be?"

"There is a large difference, actually…"

Zeel had wished right away that she could take that comment back. She had meant only to be helpful, but had realized too late that the Dragon Queen wouldn't like to be corrected in front of her entire court. And so her relief had been great when the queen only smiled and laughed lightly.

"I suppose you must be right. You must know far more about it than I do," she had said pleasantly. Around them, the courtiers had all begun exchanging unsure looks, likely wondering where all this sweetness was coming from. So, Zadina had worn her mask well enough to fool the people who knew her best; but she hadn't fooled Zeel.

 _They are surprised to see her this way_ , she had considered. _They are more used to someone else. Someone as cold and heartless as they are. She is doing her best to lower my guard, convince me that I can trust her._

 _She wants something from me. Why else would she be trying so hard to reel me in?_

Zadina had risen from her couch and moved back to Zeel's side, drawing her close. "Well, this has been fun, hasn't it?" she had said boredly. "Oh, I had hoped for better… But no matter. You have met the court, and the court has met you, and that is the important thing. Now return that thing to its owner, and do come with me. Lots to discuss, don't you remember?"

As she had been led away yet again, Zeel had handed the flute back to Xander, who had snatched it from her hand and shot her one of the nastiest looks she had ever received. For the first time, she had been thrilled to be led somewhere. Anywhere would have been better.

"Do you play?" she had asked the queen once they had left the room.

"Me? Oh, heavens, no," Zadina had answered, sounding appalled. "It is more than enough to enjoy other people playing for me. I have far more important things to do with my time."

Zeel had grimaced. "I should think that if there is time to breathe, there is time for music."

Zadina had laughed again. "My goodness, whatever have those people in the west done to you? Oh, but you are charming. Such a refreshing change. Oh, I am enjoying you. Why did I not have this done sooner?"

Zadina had sounded very pleased with herself, but Zeel had begun to feel increasingly uncomfortable. She had felt again an impulse to speak unwisely, but had forced herself to just smile at every offensive remark the queen made.

She had known that she needed to be as far on the queen's sweeter side as she could get. There had been another shoe waiting to drop, she had just known it. And she had felt a sinking feeling that it was about to drop on top of her head.

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 _Afterthoughts…_

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This chapter will be continuing into another chapter. I had finally condensed some ideas into a single chapter, only for it to end up exploding out of control. I even edited out a bunch of stuff, and it was still so big! I found myself at my usual 8K, and only about halfway through with what Zeel has been up to. I won't make you read another 8K at one sitting, so Zeel will also take up chapter 15. Consider your scene set, and get ready for more insanity. ;D


	15. Chapter 15: Learning the Truth

_Chapter 15: Learning the Truth_

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Zadina hadn't mentioned where there were going, and Zeel had decided not to ask. The queen had seemed excited to surprise her with something, and it had been best to let her have that. A pair of guards had trailed behind them at a respectful distance, completely blank faced and silent. Zeel had expected before that her own maids would accompany her everywhere she went in the palace, and that Zalben would even join them from time to time. She had been surprised when a pair of guards she hadn't known had come to collect her, and had escorted her away alone. She hadn't been sure when they had traded places with the guards with them now, but the men stalking behind her certainly weren't the men she had met that morning.

It had seemed like everything kept changing around her. It had been impossible to keep track of anything. This had been slightly disheartening, and overwhelmingly disorienting. If only she could have seen something she recognized, something she was familiar with, Zeel would have felt far more at ease. She had wished desperately that Nia had been with her; she had liked and trusted the woman, for all her firmness. And she would have trusted Zalben to guard her much better than the unnamed men behind her. Their presence would have been a great comfort; without them, Zeel had felt terribly alone.

 _Which is how the queen has planned it, no doubt,_ she had thought. _She is probably the one who took my things, too. She would like to see me cut off from my old life, suspicious of the people around me, and unsure of myself. She would like me to forget my past, and who I am—for without a history, what knowledge do I even have of myself? Then_ she _would be the one to save me, give me direction and purpose; she would appear beside me as a solid place, as a person I could trust. And I would be beholden to her._

It had seemed a complicated idea, but Zeel had known it was true. After all, the Titans of Fire had used the same trick on other people in the past. They had enslaved a whole race of people, and robbed them of their history. Without knowledge of who they were, the people of the Valley of Gold had been lost, adrift in the sea of time. Every idea of their real purpose had been drilled out of them until they had been no more than a band of unwilling servants, and only their captors had known the truth.

And even now, Zadina had continued using that old trick on her own people—from the men and women of Central Control, to the people being forced to work in the fields, to Zeel herself. Their identities had been taken away from them, to be replaced by whatever suited someone else.

 _But I will not let that happen to me,_ Zeel had thought defiantly. _I will not forget who I am, and where I have been. I'm afraid I will simply have to die first._

For she had worried that this was exactly what was about to happen.

Zadina had led her to a grand pair of double doors, chatting all the way, as it had seemed she tended to do. The two guards had marched forward to open the doors, without being told to. And so the queen had ushered Zeel into an enormous, high-ceilinged room, it's every wall packed with books. Zeel hadn't been aware that so many books had existed in the world, and the sight had stunned her a bit. She hadn't been able to help thinking of her husband and daughter. They would have been half mad with excitement over such a sight.

"It is only the smaller of our two libraries," the queen had said carelessly. "But modesty is a virtue, I suppose. Oh, do remind me to show you the larger one sometime. If _this_ impresses you, you will simply love it."

Zeel had continued to stare at the vastness of the library, her jaw dropping slightly at the idea that there was a _bigger_ library somewhere in the palace, with _more_ books than this one. Meanwhile, the queen had looked over her shoulder, toward the guards outside the doors.

"Leave us for a moment," she had called to them.

The guards had wordlessly nodded in understanding and shut the great doors. They had closed with something of a thud, their hinges creaking a bit under their weight. Zeel had been completely alone with the Dragon Queen.

She had been startled from her wonderment by the queen placing a hand on her shoulder, and watching her with concern.

"My dear, are you well?" Zadina had asked. "You seem alarmed. Ah, but of course, you've probably never seen so many books in your life—that is, of you have ever seen books at all! Forgive me for surprising you, the thought hadn't occurred to me."

Zadina had turned and walked off without waiting for an answer, prompting Zeel to follow her.

"I'm actually quite fond of books," she had said, as if she were still unoffended by the queen's comments. "Everyone in Rin is taught to read and write, and everyone owns at least a few books. Just… Not as many as this."

Zadina had glanced back at her, looking a bit surprised. "Hm. How interesting. My grandfather underestimated them, then."

The queen had continued leading the way through the great room, until she had reached a side door.

"Please, come into my study," she had said, graciously standing aside for Zeel. "I affectionately called it the butterfly room. For its smallness, it is one of my very favorite places in the whole palace. I do hope you like it."

"Why do you call it the butterfly room?" Zeel had asked as she had stepped inside. But she hadn't needed an answer, for she saw it at once. The walls had been covered with framed glass cases, with butterflies pinned neatly to boards inside them. Some cases had only contained single specimens, labeled in flowing script. Others had been filled with the winged creatures, arranged by size and color into beautiful, artistic designs.

Each case had been a work of art, but Zeel had felt a sense of dread about it. Recalling that her spirit animal happened to be a butterfly, she had begun to wonder if Zadina had led her here just to make her uncomfortable.

"I have specimens here from all over the world," Zadina had commented, gesturing around her, and pointing to different cases in turn. "This one was brought back from that wretched Plains War, a rare find, indeed. Oh, and this one came to us from a land called Vaious. This one came to us from the western coast of Deltora, only a few day's voyage south; it is called Zara's Glory, after their first queen, I'm told."

As she had gone on lovingly pointing out her favorites, Zadina had moved toward a desk in the room's corner, where a stack of papers had been arranged. The queen had picked up a few of those papers and shuffled through them briefly, as if looking for something.

"Why so silent, Zeel?" she had asked. "Don't you find my collection to be impressive?"

"Oh, yes, of course I'm impressed," Zeel had stammered back. "Impressed… And slightly disturbed…"

"Well, I have something here that might just cheer you up. Come and see, my dear."

Zeel had doubted that very much, but had come to see what the queen had prepared for her. On the desk, Zadina had set out a few of her stacked papers to be seen properly. They were all very official-looking documents, stamped with what must have been the royal seal. To her surprise, she had seen that her own name was clearly printed somewhere on each of them.

"What are these?" she had demanded. Pleased by her reaction, the queen had smiled and picked up the first document.

"This is who you are," Zadina had answered. "Here, listen to this. 'On this, the seventh day of the third month, second class officer Zachary Moakel is hereby promised in marriage to lady Nira Ferren, for the benefit of Zorn, the Dragon King (may his reign last a thousand years).'"

"I don't understand."

"Let's look at a different form, then," Zadina had continued, replacing that document and picking up the next one. "'On this, the fourteenth day of the seventh month, the child Zeel Moakel is born by first class officer Zachary Moakel and Nira Moakel. This child is hereby pledged by the father's blood to the service of Zorn, the Dragon King (may his reign last a thousand years).'"

Zeel had gasped, and had braced one hand against the desk to keep herself from falling over. Her heart had begun to pound furiously. So many questions she had carried all her life had suddenly been answered. All at once, she had found the names of her parents. She had learned who they had been. She had learned her birthday.

She had learned that her father had been of Central Control. That meant that she, too, had belonged to it all along.

Zadina had seemed to ignore her start, and had gone on staring thoughtfully at the birth certificate in her hand. "How do you like that?" she had mused. "Somewhere between his wedding and your birth, he had been promoted. If you are truly anything like your father, you must be very talented. Oh, but here was what I really wanted you to see. Look here, in the corner of the form."

She had turned the paper so that Zeel had seen it properly for the first time. In the corner of the form there had been several symbols. There had been a notary, the royal seal, and a circular shape which had seemed to be a coiled, serpentine dragon. Zadina had tapped this last symbol with interest.

"You see this? This was the emblem of one of my grandfather's little projects," she had explained. "He'd come up with this idea to match his strongest, fiercest soldiers with his brightest, most beautiful subjects, in an effort to build an army of supposedly perfect warriors. And grandfather was so pleased with the results, he decided to keep matching these perfect people together, over and over again, until this supposedly perfect army really _was_ perfect. It's a bit brilliant, isn't it?"

Zeel had been silent, still struggling to absorb all this knowledge. Also, the idea of this program had been awful to her. But the queen had gotten herself excited, and had gone chattering on.

"It turns out that your father was one of the first glorious results of all this, part of the first batch that pleased my grandfather so well. A bit of research shows us that he grew to be exceptionally tall and strong, and quite handsome, as had been hoped. He was everything that Central Control ought to represent. Your mother was born a peasant, and otherwise unremarkable; but she excelled in academics as a girl, and was highly intelligent by some trick of destiny. The two were pared in the hopes that their children might not be merely strong and beautiful, but clever and quick thinking, also. And it certainly seems to have worked marvelously. How else have you survived in the west for so long?"

Zeel had wanted to snap back that she had survived by the kindness of strangers, and the love of good friends, and that the late Dragon King had had nothing to do with any of it. But she had wisely held her tongue, because Zadina had calmed herself and moved on to the next form she had picked out. Quite suddenly, she had grown grave, and frowned at the document in disapproval.

"It was all going so well for them. They were already partly perfect, and had borne a nearly perfect child. Your father had been promoted to the top ranks of our military, and held a considerable amount of power. Your mother had gone from being a nameless, faceless peasant with no future, to the wife of a great leader, and had only just become a mother—the mother of another great leader, I'm sure. And then they just… Threw it all away."

Zadina had scoffed and rolled her eyes in disgust. "Many of them did, in those days. And so many of them got away with it, too. They just hopped into stolen ships and sailed away, never to be seen or heard from again. Who even knows where they went, or what became of them? It was a travesty, and of course grandfather would not tolerate it. Unfortunately, your parents were two of the last to attempt escape. We had locked the port down considerably by then, but they managed to somehow slip through the cracks. Of course, we quickly put a stop to that. A band of loyal men was sent to track them down. Sadly, this last form is a death certificate. No one on that ship was left alive."

The news had felt like a blow to Zeel, and the coldness it had been given in had only made it worse.

"Oh," she had said blankly, staring down at the floor. "I had always hoped…"

Zadina had planted her hand on her hip and scanned the certificate with disinterest. "There are arrest warrants in my findings, and also warrants to seize stolen property—that being you, obviously. Apparently, your father was cut down on sight; but your mother flung herself overboard before she could be caught, and carried you with her. Both of you were assumed lost, of course. A written statement from the leader claims that he had never seen something so foolish and brave. He writes that he saw fire in her eyes that night. He was moved by her defiance, and simply had to respect her for that, and that the whole affair was a pity. Perhaps this comforts you?"

It had hurt terribly to have her worst fears confirmed, but Zeel had nodded bravely. Her parents really had given their lives, in the hopes that their only child might someday breathe free air, as they never had. And their dying wish had been granted. Knowing their story at last, and knowing their courage and love for her had, indeed, brought her comfort.

Zadina had placed the death certificate back and the desk, and sidled around to sit in the chair behind it.

"I can only guess at what you must be feeling now," she had said, her pretended concern returning. "You have probably spent a long time wondering at what happened to them, and to you. Learning the truth must be rattling."

"Yes, a little."

"Hm. Tell me, Zeel, have you children of your own?"

Zeel had been overwhelmingly glad that Nia had prepared her for this. She had suspected that she would be asked, eventually; and she had already planned what she would say.

"No, I'm afraid I don't," she had answered forlornly. "We had always wanted a family, but learned quickly that I am unable to carry children. I did conceived once, a very long time ago, now… But that child never came into the world. Losing our child before its birth wounded us, and so we agreed never to try or even hope again. It was a terrible time for us."

The queen had looked sincerely apologetic. And she very likely had been quite sorry, for a number of her own reasons. One of the supposedly perfectly bred soldiers had been defective, after all. She seemed to have believed the lie.

 _Not quite a lie,_ Zeel had told herself. She had placed her hand on her belly, truly remembering and truly hurting. _I do like to think of that child as Justice—something Rowan and I deserve to know, but can never seem to really find. That story is completely true, and the sadness the queen sees in my face is real._

 _But Justice is not the whole truth; and if Zadina doesn't see that, then there is no reason to mention it. She need never know of Star. And she need never know of you, little one._

For the hand on her belly had not been only in pained remembrance, but in promise to the life growing steadily inside her. Zeel had been aware of it for only two weeks, and she had been aware of its potential; but she had shown no signs of it yet, and so had told no one about it. She hadn't even told her husband. She had planned to wait until Star came home, and to surprise her whole family with the news when they were together again.

They might never know it now. The thought had crossed her mind several times by now, but she hadn't let it show on her face. To betray her secret now would have been disastrous.

Zadina had leaned forward and steepled her fingers on top of the desk. Then she had taken a deep breath and said, "I see how hard all of this is for you now, my dear. But I hope that you can see from all of this why you are so very precious to us. You were lost, and the loss was great. But now you have been brought back, alive and whole, as we never could have guessed. And you carry something of great value to us all."

Zeel had looked up at the queen with startled eyes. Had she seen through her mask, after all? How had she guessed so easily? Her heart had frozen in fear.

"Knowledge," Zadina had continued, a cunning grin spreading over her face. "You have lived your whole life in the west. You know those people. You know their strengths, their weaknesses, their points of pressure. And they know you, too. If I am correct, you must be dear to them, as well. Never before have we bred such a perfect spy."

So that had been her game. Zeel's heart had begun to race again, and she had backed away, shaking her head.

"No."

Zadina had risen from her chair impatiently, quickly becoming more and more herself, and moved after her.

"Now, now, Zeel, be reasonable. Heaven only knows what those people have made of you, but you are still Zebak. You are one of us, and you belong to me. You always have, whether you have known it or not. Now that you are back where you rightfully belong, it would do you good to serve me willingly. It was what you were born to do. And if you would lend me your knowledge, just imagine how you would be rewarded! You would remain here in the palace, as one of my closest confidants, living a life of pleasure. I wouldn't even force you to serve with Central Control, as you were born to. Why, I wouldn't even force you to be marked as the rest of us are. You have earned that much, my dear—if _only_ you will do as I tell you. Serve and obey me, and there is nothing I wouldn't do for you. Give me the secrets of the west, and I will have you thinking that I am your slave."

The queen had gone on to look colder and crueler as she spoke. Now that she had come to the point, she had grown tired of her mask. Her patience had nearly reached its end. She had wanted an answer at once—the one she had played so craftily to get. The one she would have killed for.

In spite of all she had had to lose, Zeel had known there to be only answer she could give. She had stood as straight and tall as she could, and glared back at the queen.

"I am not your plaything, and I am not your spy," she had growled. "Betray the people who saved me? I would rather die."

Zadina's face hadn't changed for a long moment. Then she had crossed her arms and shaken her head. "I was afraid you might say that," she had sighed. She had raised her hand and snapped her fingers, as if summoning someone, even though they had been alone.

On cue, the two guards from before had burst into the room without warning. It had been impossible to say when they had crept so silently through the library, but there they had been, all the same, awaiting the order to come and trap her. There had been something odd about their marked faces, so blank and emotionless that they might have been carved of stone. To Zeel, they had seemed to be in a kind of trance.

 _It is Zadina,_ she had thought. _She has enchanted them._

"Miss Moakel has been given a chance to redeem herself, and has decided instead to betray us, as her father did," Zadina had informed them crossly. "If she wishes so badly to follow in his footsteps, so be it. Seize this traitor. Take her to the dungeons, and make sure that she stays there until her miserable fate is decided."

The guards had stepped forward without hesitation to do their bidding. Knowing that it would do no good to fight them, Zeel had stood still as they had gripped her arms to drag her away. But there had been no need for force. She had already decided that she would go quietly, with dignity and triumph. She had been kidnapped to help bring about the fall of the west; but by sacrificing herself, perhaps she had prevented another war. The queen had seen this in her face, instead of the terror and desperate change of mind she had been hoping for. For a final moment, the two women had gazed at each other in fascinated loathing.

"This, too, is a pity," Zadina had commented dryly. "We really have lost something special, haven't we, now?"

"You've lost nothing. It was never yours to begin with."

"I see. It is just as well, then, that you bore us no children. They would have been unruly and troublesome. Your idiot parents would have been so very proud of you."

"Good. I am proud to be like them."

Zadina had bared her teeth and growled in frustration, and had looked very much like a dragon, indeed. Rowan had spoken of this once, long ago, of how the queen's beautiful face had twisted with glad hatred, and how her beauty had vanished. Zeel had thought of this in the past, glad that she would never have to see it for herself. And yet there she had been, seeing it with her own eyes, and it had wrenched her heart. In her mind, it had been a waste of its own. Zadina had quickly become the ugliest thing she had ever seen.

"Remove this wretched creature from my sight," Zadina had commanded harshly, turning her back on them. "My heart is utterly broken. Let me never look on her again."

Zeel hadn't believed that as she had been escorted out of the library. She had wondered if the queen had even possessed a heart to be broken. But she had kept her wondering to herself, and had simply let the guards haul her through the maze of hallways with her head held high. She had been taken deep into the palace, where the light no longer shone, and only a few well-spaced torches remained to light the way. And in no time at all, she had been shoved into a cell of damp stones with a single barred window and a rough wooden cot in one corner.

"Disgusting," one of the guards had muttered as he had slammed the door of iron bars shut behind her. "She was the Dragon Queen's new favorite. She could have had everything and more. And what does she do, but throw it all away?"

"No one that foolish deserves to live," the other guard had agreed. "No matter what knowledge they carry. It will be refreshing to see the wench burned alive. We'll see how defiant she is, then."

And they had gone away, laughing cruelly to themselves. Zeel had watched them as far as she could through the bars, until their laughter had faded away.

She really had been alone.

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All of that had happened the day before. The night had passed, and now it was early morning; but it was hard to tell, with the rain still pouring, and clouds still covering the city.

Zeel had not passed an agreeable night in the cell. As soon as the guards had left, she had gone scurrying around the whole cell, testing every bar and every stone that seemed to have a weakness. She had run her hands over every inch of the wall and floor, and dug her nails into every possible crack. None of them had provided an answer or a way out.

She had called for help, and even screamed curses in the hope that someone might hear her. She had paced in frustration, pounded her fists on the wall in fury, and eventually broken down and wept in moments of despair. And so that useless cycle had repeated itself for all that afternoon and into the night, for what else had there been for her to do? Then the storm clouds had rolled in, blotting out the sunset, and the rain had begun to fall mercilessly. It had eerily matched her mood, and only made it worse. Sleep had been impossible.

Zeel had no clear idea what time it was, and was beyond caring. She was exhausted, and frightened, and miserable. Death was now absolutely certain, and there was no way of escaping it, this time. All she could really do was to wait. She continued to watch the rain without really seeing it, wondering how much time she had left.

"At least we will be together, at the end," she murmured, touching her belly in grief. "I would spare you this, if only I could. Yet I can't regret this choice; what else was I supposed to do, my dear? My one regret is that your father never knew… No, no, it is better that he never knew of you. It is better that we keep this secret to ourselves. It is all I can do to protect you now."

Another wave of horrible despair was settling over her. Just as she was allowing it to overtake her, she heard footsteps echoing through the dungeon, coming closer and closer. She pushed the despair aside and forced herself to stand straighter.

"So, they have come for me," she said to herself. "Well, let them do what they want to me. They'll have nothing from me but defiance, I swear it."

She hardened her face and turned to the bars, prepared for another squadron to come and take her to her fate. Except she heard right away that there were not many pair of feet coming toward her cell, but one, alone.

 _Odd…_

In a few moments, a man in full uniform did appear at the cell bars, quite alone. In a gesture she hadn't expected in the slightest, he removed his cap and nodded his head respectfully. He looked her directly in the eye, as no other guard had dared before. His face and bright copper eyes seemed very familiar to her somehow.

"Greetings, ma'am" he said in a firm, but cautious voice. "I don't suppose you remember me?"

Hearing the voice that went with his face, Zeel remembered at once. Her already hard face twisted into a scowl.

"Yes, I do," she growled. "You were the man who knocked my husband unconscious! What do you want?" she demanded.

The man flinched, clearly ashamed. "I did do that," he mumbled. "I understand if you are unwilling to speak to me. What I did was unforgivable; what we all did was unforgivable. We didn't like to do it, but we had no other choice, see? They have ways of making us follow orders. Please believe me when I say how sorry we all are."

Zeel was furious again, and wasn't entirely sure now if she did believe that. She continued to glare at him, outraged that he would dare approach her after all the pain he had caused.

Seeing this, the man dug in his pocket and drew out a small leather pouch. "Again, I understand if you refuse to hear me. But at least take this token, as a small comfort, if nothing else."

Zeel raised her eyebrow suspiciously at him. "What is it?"

He held the pouch out to her through the bars. "Take it, and see for yourself, ma'am."

Wishing for him to be gone, Zeel snatched the pouch from him, opened it, and tipped its contents into her hand.

To her amazement and joy, there was her wedding ring and necklace, undamaged and whole. Her hand flew over her mouth as she gasped, unable to believe her eyes. She looked up at the man, puzzled in spite of herself.

"Where did you get these?" she asked.

"Zak took them from you the other night. In all the struggling, it was easy to slip them off and hide them. It was quick thinking, on his part; his eyes are sharp, and he noticed them before any of us did. It's a good thing, too. If the queen had noticed them first…"

The man trailed off, leaving the rest to Zeel's imagination.

"And I'm to believe that he did this as a kind favor?"

"Well, we have returned them to you."

Zeel looked down at her returned things and sighed in defeat. Slipping her ring back into its proper place, she commented, "It is a comfort, after all. I thought they had been lost. It will be nice to have them with me when I die."

The man cleared his throat and glanced at the floor. "I ought to introduce myself. I am Zane Ferren, deputy captain of squad C-57."

"Oh. My mother's name was Ferren."

"Hm. The name is common enough here; but perhaps we are kin, by chance? It is a nice thought."

It was a rather nice thought, for all the trouble he had brought her. Perhaps she was just lonely and was glad to hear a truly kind word from someone—anyone. Her heart softened a bit. It was becoming harder and harder to stay angry with this man.

But what did he really want from her? Why had he really come here?

Zane smiled ruefully and braced his hand on one of the bars, tugging at it mockingly. "You're certainly locked in here good," he said. "They really didn't spare any expense on you. And yet I wonder at how they put you in _this_ cell…"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, there's this old story they tell at the academy, a bit of an urban legend. They say that a while back, an old beggar was convicted for a theft—wrongly, some say—and thrown into this very cell without a trial. He was to be executed a week later, and left to rot here. But they had no way of knowing that this unlikely old man was exceptionally sharp. He somehow found a way of prizing the window grate away, and made a daring escape. The old fool apparently slipped right back into the slums he had been taken from, and was never found."

Zeel shook her head. "That is impossible. I've already tried it many times, in every way I could think of. You can tell your academy that it is merely a tale."

"To be sure, a tale they tell to frighten the young cadets. However, I've often recalled this story, wondering if such a thing could be true. And it's often occurred to me that perhaps we aren't considering it from the right angle. Perhaps we need to think… _Outside_ the box, for a change."

Zeel stared at him hard, and he stared back with feeling. He was trying to tell her something. At length, Zane stretched his arms and sighed.

"I'm afraid I must leave you, now," he said apologetically. "The rest of the squad has covered for me; but if I don't return soon, someone will surely notice that I've left. We simply wanted to be sure that you had your things back in time. It is a long shot, but we hope that you will not think of us as monsters. If there was any way of proving how sorry we are, we would do it."

"You already have," she answered, unable to help feeling touched. "Thank you, Zane Ferren. It truly does mean much to me to have these back."

Zane put his cap back in place, and tipped it graciously. "Thank you, ma'am. Farewell, and good luck to you."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked quickly back the way he had come. Again, Zeel was alone with her thoughts.

She stared at her necklace for a long moment, rubbing the reed pipe lovingly with her thumb. She hadn't been there when her husband had made it for her, just before their wedding. The silk was faded now, but still yellow; the braided strips had come from her beloved kite, destroyed on their last adventure together. Rowan had kept it all that time, and saved it for just that purpose. It meant everything to her, and the ring on her finger was no less precious. The gold had come directly from Mountain Heart, with the blessing of a Dragon. The four perfect jewels had once paved the streets of the Valley of Gold. They were real parts of what was now her home, a promise that she truly belonged there, no matter what anyone said.

 _Not even the Dragon Queen can change that,_ she said to herself, gripping her necklace with new strength. _This horrible city is not my home—Rowan is. He put himself in danger, went into places he fears, and dealt with a Dragon to make me this ring. It is proof to all people of our love and friendship, and that we belong together. That we_ will _be together, no matter the cost. He would move the mountain itself if it stood between us._

 _And now this city and the sea stand between us. I will just have to move them, myself. I will see him again, and he will know his child. Never once has he let me down. I won't let him down, either._

She tugged her necklace over her head, stuffing the pipe under her dress, and hurried back to the window. Zane hadn't mentioned it for no good reason. She had spent hours examining it, trying to find a way to pull the barred grate away, but it had been no use. It was fixed in place, and couldn't be moved.

 _Think outside the box…_

 _Outside the box…._

 _Outside…_

On a whim, Zeel reached through the grate and felt along the wall around it on the other side. The stones were slick from the rain, but worn and rough. She even felt moss and young ferns sprouting in places. And then her fingers brushed against a smooth bump along the window ledge. She felt around it, testing it, hoping against hope that it was what she thought it was. She pushed at it, and felt it sliding out of place.

A latch! The grate was held in place by a latch, hidden on the outside. Unable to believe her luck, she pushed at the grate and it swung away on equally hidden hinges.

The whole thing had been just on the other side of the wall, where no frightened, panicking prisoner would think to look. It was just the kind of cruel trick she might have expected from the Dragon Lords.

The window itself was small and far from the floor, but Zeel knew that she could manage it. She pushed her head and shoulders out into the pouring rain and looked around. She found herself looking down into a deserted alleyway, only one floor below her. The outside wall would be slippery, but the stones would certainly provide enough footholds for her to climb down. She pulled herself back into the cell and looked down at her dress.

It was a gown, really, with layer upon useless layer of fine fabrics; it had been hard to move much in, and was uncomfortable to just be in. The bodice fit her too closely, and breathing in it had taken getting used to. There was no way to fit through the small window in the thing. Zeel began tearing at it, ripping at laces and buttons and casting aside each bothersome layer in a heap. In the end, she was wearing only a thin silk shift, and many pounds lighter for it.

She had no idea what would come next—where she would shelter from the rain, or where she would find real clothes, or how she would conceal her unmarked face for long. Resolving to think of this once she had escaped, she heaved herself up onto the window ledge and crawled out of the window.

She was soaked almost at once, but she scrambled with ease down the side of the wall. It was the first wall she had seen here that wasn't made of metal or polished stone; it felt more like sandstone under her fingers, possibly neglected for so long because it was the outer wall of a dungeon, and only faced a dark alleyway. She was soon standing on solid ground in that dark space, shivering in the cold rain, trying to decide which way to run.

Something moved suddenly in the dark and she gasped in alarm. A lantern came to life not far from where she stood, illuminating only a small patch of the darkness. Into that space came a cloaked figure, just inches shorter than she was. Zeel backed away from it, cursing herself for being so foolish. How easily she had been caught! She might have known it wouldn't be so simple.

The figure raised the lantern until the light shone upon its face. It was the face of a young woman, much younger than herself, with wide golden eyes and a surprised expression. The woman raised her free hand, signaling that she meant no harm, and then pressed a finger to her lips.

"Hush, now, girl," the woman whispered in a thick accent. "I'm here to help. Will you come with me?"

She held out her hand hopefully, waiting for Zeel to take it. Zeel glanced around, fully expecting that several uniformed men would melt out of the shadows as soon as she had accepted. However, seeing an opportunity, and that she had no other choice, she decided to take a chance. If she took this chance, she couldn't possibly be any worse than she had started off in this strange place. And so, frowning in puzzlement, she took the woman's hand.

The woman nodded shortly, obviously pleased; then she turned and hurried out of the alleyway, hauling Zeel after her into the street. It seemed to be totally deserted. All the same, as the woman pulled her through street after dark, flooded street, Zeel kept her face down as much as possible. If someone saw her face now, they would both be done for. The woman was almost certainly aware of this, for she dashed through the streets as quickly as possible. She didn't even take the time to skirt around puddles, but splashed right through them in a hurry. She only stopped once, to push Zeel against a wall and hide the light of her lantern behind her cloak.

Zeel quickly saw why she had done this. Only a few seconds later, a heavy cart came trundling down the street they had nearly run across, pulled by a hulking shape she could only assume was a grach, and flanked by grumbling, hapless men. It seemed to take long moments for that cart to pass them. When it was well out of sight, the woman sighed in relief and resumed her journey, tugging Zeel out of hiding so suddenly that she gasped in surprise.

 _Where is she taking me?_ Zeel wondered, for what was easily the hundredth time.

The woman turned sharply, and Zeel found that she was being dragged toward the front door of a large house. It was the only one that stood out from the others around it, for a single light was lit in a front window. It was the most impressive house she had ever seen, and she could barely see it at all. The woman knocked lightly on the door and stood back a bit, silently waiting for it to be answered.

The door swung open, revealing the worried face of a young man. On seeing who was there, the worry vanished, replaced by gladness.

"You are overdue, my love," he greeted, pulling them inside. "We were starting to worry you had been caught! Where have you been?"

"Dodging garbage carts and flooded streets," the woman answered crisply, throwing back her hood and shaking the rain from her cloak. "I had to change courses twice. But I've brought her, all the same."

The man took her face in his hands and pulled her close. "I still can't believe you volunteered to do this. It was so dangerous. I'm just glad you're both aright."

Zeel was surprised. Either this young man was more relieved than she had thought, or perhaps great shows of affection were not so frowned upon here as she was used to. The woman pushed him away and brushed a few raindrops off his shoulders.

"Oh, Zamiel," she scolded, and then spoke some words in a foreign language. "I'm soaking wet. You'll catch your death this way."

The man, Zamiel, shrugged at her complaining. "I've caught worse."

"And you'll catch more than that," came a new voice, as another, much older woman came from another room, carrying a candle. "You've a guest, young man. I suggest you see to her properly."

Zamiel shook himself, and finally turned to Zeel with a rather charming smile. "Of course, where have my manners gone?" he said, offering her his hand. "Please, come with us and sit down."

"No," she exclaimed, backing away from him. "I'm tired of being led from one pace to another like this, and I won't do it anymore. Tell me what is going on, this instant!"

Zamiel stopped in his tracks, looking sincerely sorry. "Please, ma'am, forgive me for startling you. We're only trying to help."

"…Why?"

The older woman sighed huffily, and stormed to stand between him.

"This is nonsense," she snapped, pulling Zeel under her arm and guiding her into another room. "The child is soaked and no doubt chilled to the bone. This is no time or place to be arguing, when we've barely even begun." In a kinder voice, she continued, "Don't mind them. Young people hardly know how to think things through properly."

"I suppose I have to agree," Zeel mumbled, thinking of how careless her own child could be, and how irritating it was. The old woman smiled vaguely, and guided her into a bright living room. The space reminded Zeel very much of the parlor in her palace apartment; but it had a more natural air to it. The room was far more welcoming than that parlor had been. The rug on the floor was worn from years of feet trampling across it, and the table and chairs around the room were well-worn from use. Plainly, the space was meant to be lived in, and shared by many people.

There was even a dry towel over the arm of one chair, and cups for tea on the table, waiting to greet her. The old woman looked over her shoulder and gave an order to the young people behind her in that same foreign language; she suddenly reminded Zeel very much of several other women she had known in her life. For the first time since arriving in her homeland, she couldn't help but feel at home.

"Come stand by the fire, and take this, and dry yourself off before you catch a cold," the woman commanded, taking up the towel and thrusting it into Zeel's arms. "Ofelia is bringing tea from the kitchen, and Zamiel is locking up after us. Whatever lies they may have told you in the palace, you are truly safe here with us."

"Somehow, I have little trouble believing that," Zeel agreed, rubbing her dripping curls with the towel. "Still, you'll forgive me if I'm very confused. What is going on here?"

"Quite alright, quite alright," the woman insisted, brushing her skirt back into place. "What is going on here is a rather clever plan to save your life, and perhaps even to return you to where you came from."

"I thought I came from here."

"To where you belong, then. And I must say, the plan has worked quite well so far. I see you understood Zane's message, after all."

Zeel had to grin. "You sent him."

"Not quite," came Zamiel's voice, as he strode into the room, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "I'm afraid that was my idea."

As he said this, Ofelia returned with a teapot and scoffed at him. "But _I_ made up that story he told her."

"Yes, yes you did, my dear," he agreed. "Please, ma'am, let me introduce us. I am Zamiel Garased, captain of squad C-57; Zane is my trusted deputy captain."

Zeel looked hard at the young man, and found that she recognized him, also. "So you were in charge of kidnapping me. And now you have rescued me, and are trying to take me home? Why would you do such a thing?"

"Because it was wrong. We hated to have to do it, but I'm sure you've noticed that the queen can be very… Persuasive. We had no choice but to go through with the mission. But we saw no reason why we couldn't try to make it right. And so the ten of us put our heads together and formed a plan before we went to your village that night."

"Ofelia and I happily agreed to play our own parts in it, once we learned of it," the old woman added proudly. "I am Thora Bhlai, a healer by trade, and a good friend of the Garased family. There is little that goes son with these boys that I don't know, and so I learned of their scheming quite quickly. I've offered you sanctuary in my home until they've figure out how to put you back, should you like to accept it."

"I would be thankful for that," Zeel agreed, shaking Thora's hand. "I, too, seem to have no choice."

"You could choose to take your chances in the streets," Ofelia said smartly. "You wouldn't last long and we don't recommend it, but it is a choice."

Thora narrowed her eyes and smiled tightly. "A grim observation, young lady. Thank you for sharing."

Ofelia grinned back, happy to be of help, and began pouring tea into the cups on the table.

"Not a bad idea," came a man's voice from the kitchen. "She's more than welcome to it, if you ask me."

"That's enough, Simon," Thora snapped back.

"I don't fancy having unmarked strangers in the house," the voice came again. "It'll be all our heads if she's found here."

"That's enough, I said! Take your sulking somewhere else, you old fool."

There was loud grumbling in the kitchen, but the man didn't speak again. Thora groaned in annoyance, and guided Zeel into a chair.

"Pay my brother no mind," she said impatiently. "He is infirm and practically blind, and chooses to be bitter about it. He'll give you no trouble while you are with us, but he is always in a foul mood. He will grow used to you in time. Rest assured that no matter what he says, I am glad to have you here."

"How many other people are hiding in this house?" Zeel asked, reaching for the cup closest to her.

"Only us, and no others. I don't usually harbor wanted fugitives in my home, but this cause is a noble one."

"I'd hate to cause you so much trouble, after what you've done for me."

"Never you mind all that," Thora said kindly. "We've already worked it all out. You will be perfectly safe here, and so will the rest of us. All we need do is use a bit of caution."

"And all you need is a simple disguise," Ofelia added, digging in her dress pocket and pulling out a flat wooden box. "A bit powder and kohl and black henna will do just the trick. Those western people won't recognize you, when I'm done with you."

"You should trust her on this," Zamiel remarked. "My love is a master of cosmetics and the like. She could transform you into just about anyone. An unremarkable woman of Habaharan will be no challenge for her. Ofelia and Thora will take good care of you, and explain the finer details of the plan."

Ofelia made a face. "Why don't you explain them yourself?"

"I'm afraid I must leave you," he answered regretfully. "Zaneth and I have been granted leave for mourning, which is generous as well as convenient; but we are still being watched. If I'm seen returning home in the rain at five o'clock in the morning, Central will be suspicious. It's a risk we can't afford to take. I've already risked so much letting the two of you get so involved."

"That is a risk of our own, young man," Thora insisted. "And I'll not let you go wandering around in this weather. People don't call me the best healer in Southside for nothing, you know."

Zamiel smiled and clasped Thora's hands in his own. "You are a gracious woman, Thora, and I wish I could accept your invitation, but home is where I must be. And I would rather be back before my brother wakes. The less he knows of what has happened tonight, and the fewer questions he think of to ask, the better we all will be. Believe me, I would prefer to stay and explain myself; but you understand that I can't, don't you?"

"Yes, I suppose I do," Thora said with a sigh. "Hurry home to your brother, then, and give him a hug for me. And here, have one of your own. Stars know how badly you boys need it."

Zamiel returned the old woman's embrace, bent to give Ofelia a quick kiss, and then placed his strong hand on Zeel's shoulder.

"I'll be back to see you as much as I can," he said earnestly. "We'll keep you informed as much as possible. Finding a way to smuggle you out of the city will take time, but it will happen. I promise."

Zeel placed her hand on his and nodded shortly. "I feel that I can trust you on that. Take care, then."

He smiled at her words, and turned back the way he had come. Then he stopped short and looked over his shoulder, grinning broadly.

"Good night, Simon," he called toward the kitchen. "And try not to cause your sister too much trouble until I get back."

As Zamiel finally walked out, Simon began grumbling angrily again, louder this time. Thora and Ofelia laughed lightly over this, used to this. They seemed a fairly normal kind of family, not at all like a band of brooding, bloodthirsty monsters. Zeel had suspected for a long time that her people might be like this—sharing meals and stories and homes the way her own family did. It warmed her heart to see that she had been right about that all along.

All the same, a new thought was bothering her.

"Why is he on leave for mourning?" she asked. "What has happened with him?"

Thora and Ofelia's laughter died away, and they both looked grieved suddenly. Ofelia shut her eyes tightly and turned her head away, as if in great pain. Thora sighed sharply and shook her head.

"That is one of those finer details we've been left to explain," she said plainly. "Don't you worry about him, though. Zamiel and Zaneth Garased are fine, strong young men; they will find their way, in the end. And for all that has happened, Zamiel has crafted his great plan with all the care and cunning that Central Control could hope for. They couldn't boast a finer or cleverer young solider, not in all their legions. When I say he has accounted for everything, you may depend on it."

Still wondering, Zeel sipped her tea thoughtfully.

"Very well, then. I will depend on it with my life."

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 _Afterthoughts…_

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Of course, _you_ know why Zamiel and Zaneth are on leave. And, of course, that is about to change. ;D

I haven't yet decided if the story of the old man escaping through the window was a real thing that happened once. The people of Habaharan are far sharper than Central Control believes, which mostly benefits the people, but continues to baffle the guards. Because Fire is the element of passion, but burdened by vanity, the Dragon Lords tend not to learn from their mistakes as much as one would think. Because when they screw up, they screw up spectacularly… But they just can't seem to admit that they were wrong enough to fix the small glitches that always foil them. :/

Ofelia is a favorite side character of mine. She was largely inspired by Anjela Johnson, and her very thick, outrageous accent is somewhere between Mexican and Jamaican. Also, she is a semi-professional beautician. Basically….. Ofelia is half-cholla. XD

And yes. Zeel is pregnant. Because this isn't enough of a mess already. There are many reasons why this is going to be great, I promise.


	16. Chapter 16: Habaharan

So, Northside is basically Mount Pleasant, and Southside is basically West Ashley. See, it's an analogy for my own hometown! Just had to get that out of my system, real quick.

We meet a lot of interesting and very shady characters in this chapter. You won't believe who some of them turn out to be. ;D

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 _Chapter 16: Habaharan_

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Everything Thora had to say about Zamiel Garased was completely true. He was an ideal soldier in every way, except that he secretly used his talents against his masters. He was a brilliant strategist, and well known for crafting clever plans in great haste. And so when he had crafted this, his most clever and important of plans, he had taken every possible danger or error into account and, made another plan for each one. Zamiel had planned for anything that could possibly go wrong. He had planned for everything.

But there was no way he could have known that at dawn, a dark shape would plummet into the sea right outside of Habaharan port. There was no way he could have known that four young people from the far west would clamber ashore, while his own brother appeared alone on a stolen, untagged grach to cause an enormous scene on the docks.

Zamiel wasn't there to see Zan greeted with a hero's welcome, and begged by guards and fisher folk alike to tell of his incredible escape. And he certainly wasn't there when an unguarded wagon was taken by a pair of dark figures, or when two pale-faced young women climbed into it to hide themselves under its canvas cover. There was so much commotion, no one else noticed it, themselves. When a lantern and a pair of heavy leather jackets went similarly missing, no one noticed that, either.

But Zan had made plans of his own, and so he noticed it right away.

The excitement had passed, and Zan had insisted he be on his way to the city as soon as possible. Not at all by chance, he had crossed paths with a brother and sister—Brahna and Mahna, they had called themselves—who had also been on their way to the city. Begging his pardon, they had asked if they might walk with him.

Guards had laughed at the two for troubling the young man. Such a clever solider had better things to do with his time than escorting a fisherman and his sister to the city to sell their wares. But Zan had waved the guards away, saying that it was no trouble at all. He was going to the city anyway, and he was in an excellent mood after foiling his captors.

And so it was that Zan, Forley, and Star walked unhindered down the broad road that led to the towering city as the sun rose, with Alanis and Leah hidden among the barrels of fish in their stolen wagon. Far away, they could hear the famous bells of Habaharan tolling, rousing the city to life. They only passed a few other groups of people, marching toward the docks, who didn't spare them a second glance. With their woven garments hidden under fishermen's jackets, and stripes of lantern grease painted down their dark faces, Star and Forley couldn't have looked less as if they had come from the west. They looked little different from the Zebak fisher folk they had milled with on the docks.

Star was partly revolted by how easily she passed as one of her mother's people. However, a much larger part of her was thrilled. For all the simplicity of their plan, it was working to perfection. Much of it had been formed in the air, as they had yelled problems and solutions to each other over the rush of the wind. And yet it was all going so well, and they had fooled everyone they had met so far.

Not far on the horizon, the solid metal wall of the city was already shining in the light of the rising sun. Soon enough, she knew it would be flashing like a beacon, and impossible to look directly at. She had written of this place, as well as she had been able to; but, like the domain of the Keeper, her writing hadn't prepared her for the real sight. In spite of all that had happened and all that still lay ahead, Star was already rewriting passages in her mind.

"I had forgotten how long the walk is," Zan grumbled, rubbing his face tiredly. "Forgive me for that, I haven't made the march in a long time."

"An hour is quite a long time to spend walking to your work," Forley added, nodding to another group of fisher folk as they passed on the other side of the road. "It seems tedious to me."

"That's because it is," Zan agreed dryly. "Perhaps that's why Brahna and Mahna have abandoned the trade, and are leaving to find work in the city. Many of our fisher folk are doing the same, recently. Fishing hasn't been a good business anyway. Over-fishing, some are saying. There's talk of giving it up entirely for a few years, until the fish come back."

"That's not such a terrible thing," Star commented. "Most of our people have never seen or tasted fresh fish in their lives."

"Well, my people won't care for such a thing. Fish is not a luxury, but a staple; even the lowest of slaves is given fish to eat. Without it, our way of life will change a great deal."

Zan spoke gravely, more so than he normally did, for he had proven to be a very grave sort of person. Clearly he understood the issue much better than the rest of them, because it was bothering him to think about. Star shook her head, wondering at how something as simple and silly as fish could cause so much trouble in such a big place. On the other side of the wagon, though, Forley was considering the idea and slowly nodding his head in understanding. It must have been something to do with buying and selling, which she knew so little of, but which had been learning of since he was small.

Once they were alone on the broad road, Alanis stuck her head out from under the wagon's canvas tarp and sneezed loudly.

"This smell is driving me mad," she grumbled. "Zan, how much longer until we reach the city?"

"We will reach the gate in less than half an hour," he answered helpfully. "Unfortunately, you will have to sit still a while more. My house is on the other side of the city, in Southside."

Alanis gawked at him in disbelief. "Are you saying we have to walk through the whole city without being caught?"

Zan shrugged at her. "I knew I had forgotten something when I drew up my map before. I couldn't quite think of it at the time, and had feared it might come back to haunt us. Happily, the walk changes nothing; there are far worse things I could have forgotten."

"What could possibly be worse than this?" Alanis demanded.

"Calm yourself down, and try to look on the positive side," came Leah's voice. "At least we don't have to walk through the wastelands. Another hour or two in this wagon isn't really so bad, compared to that."

Unable to argue with such wisdom, Alanis scowled at the city and sank back into her hiding place. Zan tugged his wrinkled jacket more tightly around himself and rubbed his arm nervously.

"She doesn't like or trust me," he pointed out in a low voice. "I can't say that I blame her, but really. I'm doing the best I can, and she insisted on joining us."

"Never mind Alanis," Forley insisted. "Her bark is worse than her bite, and she doesn't mean anything by it. She just has a temper, that's all. Surely it's nothing you aren't used to."

Zan snorted. "It's a shame she has to stay hidden, then," he grumbled. "She'd get on well with nearly everyone. All the same, I'd prefer to be snapped at only by my betters—and I have a lot of betters. I don't need it from my so-called companions."

He was on edge again, and not entirely pleased to be back. He was returning to the family he loved, and had feared to never see again, and he was certainly glad of that. But he had confessed before their journey that his return to Habaharan was also his return to slavery, and work that he hated. Zan honestly wasn't sure if he was happy to be home or not.

Star had wondered about this before, unable to understand how someone could be so torn over whether it was good or not to be home. Of course coming home was a good thing. And then she had remembered how bitterly her own homecoming had turned out, and decided that she did understand, after all.

Zan also found himself cumbered by a company he hadn't expected, and mostly didn't trust yet. He trusted Star, who had freed him and shown herself to be a capable ally. But Forley had teased him almost constantly, Leah had been aloof and quiet so far, and Alanis had made it very plain that she didn't trust him, either. They had barged into his life and demanded that he take them along, but had made no real effort to know him, or even prove that he could count on them. Star trusted them absolutely, but the distance they kept from Zan bothered her. It seemed a poor way to begin their adventure together.

 _If we can't count on one another, many things will go wrong very quickly,_ she thought to herself. _But if mum and papa could pull together in their most dire moments, surely we can do it, too. Perhaps their trust in me can unite them, if only for a short time._

That was a comforting idea. She looked over at Zan, striding straight and tall at the head of the wagon, staring down the city ahead of them. Unos, who had been hitched to the wagon, kept nudging Zan's shoulder, demanding attention; he was determinedly ignoring her, pushing her off whenever he lost patience.

"I'm looking forward to meeting your brothers, at last," she said with a smile. "If they are really like you've said, I'm sure we'll like them."

Zan glanced back at her, surprised by the pleasant change in topic, and nodded shortly. "I think they will like you, too. At least, I know Zamiel will; he likes nearly everyone. I can't say for sure about Zaneth, though. He's the shy type, and doesn't make friends easily. Maybe he will like your other cousin better. They can sulk in corners and be quiet together, perhaps."

In the wagon, Leah cleared her throat loudly in disagreement, but said nothing. Forley chuckled and shook his head.

"Do not underestimate my little sister," he cautioned. "People like Alanis and Star are easy to see coming; they are so loud, it's hard not to see them. The odd, quiet ones are always the ones you need to be most wary of."

"I'll remember that," Zan agreed slowly, batting Unos off his shoulder again. "And your needy friend here can bother our Dolosus, instead of me. It will be good to see him again, too. That grach has an attitude, but he must be wondering where I am. He's always liked me best."

"How could anyone like _you_ best of anyone?" Alanis demanded from her hiding place.

Zan snorted and hunched his shoulders. "When you feed them all the best scraps under the table, it's easy enough. If only it was so easy to please my commanders, I'd want for nothing."

It was clear to Star that Alanis had hurt him with her words. It was a shame, after seeing him speaking so freely and happily about his family. He had been almost at ease for the first time, and now it was ruined. She would have liked to reach into the wagon and smack her cousin over the head for speaking so harshly.

Even though it was still early, the city's only entrance was already teaming with people. Larger wagons were being loaded and unloaded with goods, and vendors had set up stalls here and there to serve the merchants in the crowd. Guards in gray uniforms were everywhere, stalking suspiciously among the people, but largely unaware of any of them. Perhaps they were on the lookout for thieves, or simply easy prey to push around. But the crowd was already so large that three more people, another wagon, and another grach went unnoticed. Some paused to glance warily at Zan, and went right back to their own business. He must have seemed unimpressive, compared to the older, well-dressed guards around them.

Habaharan's gates were open wide for the day, and watched over by men in more elaborate uniforms. They, too, glanced at Zan, and at the people with him. Seeing nothing more than a pair of fisher folk and a battered wagon, in the company of one of their own, the guards simply nodded in vague approval. The companions walked right past them without even a word.

Just like that, Star found herself in the noisy, crowded streets of a sprawling city. Already, the streets were alive with activity. Shops were just opening everywhere she looked. Men and women with bags and baskets were making their ways to their work, or perhaps running morning errands. Children of all ages, wearing uniforms of their own, seemed to be walking together to their lessons. And of course, guards wandered carelessly up and down the streets. There were distinct sights, sounds, and smells all around her; and yet she couldn't pick a single one out from all the rest.

She knew she was supposed to appear like them, as if she had lived every day of her life in this city and was unmoved to see it as it always was. But the sight was so incredible, it was hard not to let her amazement show on her face. She looked over at Forley, who was equally amazed and doing just as poor a job of hiding it.

"I didn't think there could be so many people in the world," he commented quietly, awestruck. "How do you cram them all into one city?"

"I wouldn't say we are crammed into it," Zan answered, not allowing them to pause for long. "Habaharan is a large city with thousands of citizens. We live rather comfortably, even in Southside."

Star peered at him nervously. "What do you mean, _even_ in Southside? Isn't that where you are leading us?"

He shrugged at her, lowering his voice before he answered. "We are in Northside, now. It is the nicer half of the city, I have to say. Everything closer to the coast usually is. Sadly, Southside is the tougher half. It has fallen into a sorry state of disrepair; it is not the part of the city that greets our few visitors, and it faces the wastelands, and so the Dragon Lords are mostly uninterested in keeping its appearances in order. Much of Southside has become the city's slums."

He looked over his shoulder at Star and Forley, and didn't seem surprised that they were suddenly nervous.

"It isn't a _bad_ place, trust me," he insisted. "I've lived there my whole life, and I've turned out alright. Many people can say the same. It will be a good place to stay hidden, in any case."

Unwilling to let them argue with him, he took Unos by the harness that tied her to the wagon and pulled her forward. Glad to finally have his attention, she plodded sedately after him. Star and Forley had no choice but to follow him deeper into the city.

Looking around her, Star soon noticed that the city seemed to slope upward, as if it were built on a hill. And as the city rose, its buildings seemed finer and finer. At the very top, hard to see in the light of the sun, a vast structure of white stone and shining steel seemed to sit upon the city like a crown. A great spire rose from its center, silhouetted against the sun.

"That must be the palace," she commented, squinting to try and see it better.

"Indeed, it is," Zan agreed. "If it isn't half the size of your village, as I said, I'll eat my cap. The place is enormous, and like a terrible city of its own. I've been there only once, just a few days ago for that stupid mission, and have no desire to go back there. Bad things happen behind those walls, they say."

Star thought this over slowly, and a revelation came to her.

"You say that the slums are in Southside. That it faces the wastelands."

"That's because they are, and it does. Why?"

"I think I've written of it. If I'm right, my parents came into the city that way, and spent a short time sneaking around those very slums."

Forley looked very pleased with her thought, and grinned brightly. "That would explain a lot. Da always does complain, whenever the story is told, that the place smelled badly of garbage."

Zan looked at him in surprise. "Your father was there, too?"

Forley smugly stuffed his hands into his pockets. "It's a long story."

Zan turned back to Star, pinning her with an astounded face of his own. "You've got to let me read that book of yours."

A hiss behind them made them all jump in surprise, and they turned around to see Leah peeking at them from under the tarp. Really, she was glaring at them.

"Are you really going to discuss this so loudly?" she whispered. "If you want us to be found out that quickly, keep it up! You're doing a fantastic job!"

Humbled by her words, the three of them ceased their conversation altogether. Leah was right, of course. They were in the middle of a city now, surrounded by common people and guards who could certainly hear them. How could they have suddenly become so careless?

 _No more mistakes,_ Star told herself, ashamed for even bringing the thing up before they were safe. _By a miracle, we have made it here without being caught. Fate has been kind to us, so far. To tempt it again would be, well, beyond foolish. We only need to travel a little further like this. Then, we can have all our questions answered in peace._

As Zan led them deeper and deeper into the city, Star noticed that things had begun to change. The brick buildings around her began to seem a bit worn, and the people were less finely dressed. In fact, they were mostly wearing sturdy working clothes. There seemed to be fewer guards around, too. The children she saw weren't wearing uniforms here, but were dressed like their parents. Most seemed to be accompanying adults on their business, rather than wandering carelessly to lessons. More and more often, she noticed people with thick leather bracers fastened to their wrists, and wondered what it meant.

Those slightly worn buildings soon gave way to places that needed windowsills painted or fixed entirely, with screen doors that were torn and patched in places. The people here seemed about the same, except that they appeared more tired than before. Plainly, these people worked much harder to survive than those she had seen before. More of them were wearing those leather bracers, and it suddenly filled her with a sinking feeling. She had also noticed that there were nearly no guards at all here.

Star suspected that if they weren't already in Southside, they were about to be.

After remaining silent for a long time, Zan gasped in alarm and ducked his head.

"Come on, keep moving," he insisted quietly, trying to drag Unos a little faster. "Just don't look at anyone."

"Why?" Star whispered back. "What's wrong?"

"I'll tell you later. Just move, for heaven's sake."

Star and Forley exchanged a worried glance, wondering what had startled their guide so badly. But they did as he told them and continued hurrying forward, doing their best not to look directly at anyone.

"Garased!"

The barking voice came out of nowhere, halting them at once. All the people around them were clearly frightened by it, looking for the one who had spoken so harshly. No one had to wonder for too long. An exceptionally tall guard was striding toward them through the crowd, and people were skittering out of his way. He looked as cruel and severe as a Central Control guard could look, even with a pair of spectacles on his sharp nose. He also looked positively baffled, and all his focus seemed to be locked on Zan.

The boy had stiffened and stood at attention at the sound of his name, out of what must have been instinct. As the guard approached him, he gulped hard and made an obvious effort to compose himself.

"Lord Azan," he greeted, trying to sound more confident than he was.

"What in blazes is all this?" the guard demanded. "You were reported missing in action and presumed dead. A bother, but not at all surprising. By what trickery have you returned?"

"It was no trick, really," Zan answered as mockingly as he could, and patted Unos on the shoulder. "Those western folk aren't the brightest, after all."

The guard looked Unos over in disbelief. "They can't possibly be, if you can outwit them. So, you stole back the beast they stole from us, did you?"

"Yes, sir, I did."

"And you really expect me to believe that? Why, that whole affair happened years ago! This can't possibly be the same beast."

"Well… It is the truth, sir," Zan insisted, his voice halting and hesitant.

The guard's eyes flicked between Zan and Unos, thinking it over, but his stormy face didn't soften. Finally, he snorted in distaste and tore his gaze from them. Instead, he was looking doubtfully at Star and Forley and their strong smelling wagon.

"What of these two?" he demanded. "By the smell of them, they should be at the docks."

"I met them there on my return," Zan answered right away, sounding uncaring. "They have recently left the fishing trade, and were thinking to find work here, in Southside. Since I happened to be going that way, and had a grach to pull their wagon, I saw no trouble in helping them."

The guard grimaced at this. "Mercy. Kindness. How very like you, Zan. Whenever did such things get a man anything?"

"They have offered me their whole last catch, as thanks for my assistance, and congratulations for my return."

The guard thought about this, and rolled his eyes. "Not a terrible bargain, I suppose. And your brothers will be pleased with the gift, I shouldn't wonder."

His gaze settled for a long moment on Star, and she heroically repressed a shudder. The way he was looking at her was horribly uncomfortable.

"If you were really clever, you would have demanded the girl, too," he commented with a cruel smirk. "She is probably worth more than the catch, the wagon, and the grach combined."

"Oh. I never thought of it," Zan mumbled back, looking a mix of ashamed and very awkward. Horrified, Star shrank back against the wagon, as far from the guard as she dared. Forley gasped in alarm, unable to do or say anything.

"Of course you didn't," the guard snapped, taking off his spectacles and brushing them on his sleeve. "You never have, never do, and most likely never will. Very well, then; have your own way, if you are such a hero. Get back to your moping brothers, and have a report filled out immediately. It will be refreshing to have two of my best men back on duty. And I suppose you do make C-57 whole, so I can't really be disappointed to have you back. I expect to see all three of you on the wall at sundown tomorrow, as always."

"Yes, lord Azan."

Satisfied, the guard stalked off past them and disappeared into the crowd. Star, Forley, and Zan all watched him as far as they could, hardly able to breathe until they could no longer see him.

"What a horrible person," Forley muttered as they began to move again. "Who was that?"

"General Zared Azan, one of the queen's favorite military leaders," Zan answered flatly. "The man has whole legions under his command, including my squadron."

"What right does he have to speak to you like that?"

"Every right. The man owns me, and my brothers. He is our master."

Star gaped at him, horrified yet again. "You can't be serious."

"I'm perfectly serious. I warned you people before we left that we are all slaves here. What could be more serious than that?"

They continued to walk for a while in another silence, all three of them shaken by their unpleasant meeting with the general. Of course Star hadn't thought that Zan was joking before; it made complete sense, even if it was terribly sad. She had never imagined that the reality was quite so awful, though.

Not quite realizing what she was doing, she reached up and touched the object hidden under her clothes for comfort. It was solid and cool against her skin; and in all the excitement of the previous afternoon and night, she had completely forgotten that it was there. She couldn't remember what it was now, or how it had gotten there. Puzzled, she tugged the cord over her head, and found a gold pendant in her hand.

Her eyes went wide, and she stumbled in shock. Forley and Zan looked back at her, wondering what had happened.

"What's wrong?" Forley asked, concerned by her face.

"It is the Earth sigil!" she whispered. "I had forgotten all about it!"

Her cousin was just as shocked as she was. "You brought it _here_ of all places?" he demanded as quietly as he could.

"I didn't mean to," she answered sharply. "I just… Oh no, this is terrible! What am I going to do?"

Her mind was reeling. She cursed herself for not taking the thing off before she had left. It belonged with her father, in the hands of a Titan who could use it, who needed it. How could she have so foolishly forgotten that she was wearing it? And now she had brought it into the Zebak lands, the most dangerous place it could be taken. If it was discovered, who even knew what would be done with it?

Zan was staring at them in puzzlement. "What is the matter with the two of you? It is a pendant of gold—valuable, certainly, but no cause for a tantrum in the middle of the street."

Of course he didn't understand the sigil's real value; and there was no way to explain it where they were. Fighting back a wave of panic, Star resolved to explain it to him as soon as they had reached his home. Just as she was moving to hide the sigil under her dress again, she felt someone tugging at the sleeve of her jacket. Startled, she looked down to see a rather tall, raggedly dressed little girl staring up at her.

The girl smiled up at her impishly, rocking back and forth on her heels and looking admittedly very adorable. "Hi, there," she said brightly. "Could the pretty lady spare some change, or maybe some cake for a hungry little orphan like me?"

Star blinked at her in surprise. "I'm afraid not," she answered, feeling truly sorry that she couldn't help the hungry child.

The girl shrugged. "Oh well," she sighed, shifting her eyes around. "Then…. I guess I'll just take this!"

Like a lightning bolt, her small hand shot out and snatched the sigil right out of Star's unguarded grip. Then she darted away, cackling in triumph as she ducked and wove her way into the crowd.

Star's heart stopped dead, and time seemed to slow to a snail's pace. Before she could stop herself, she turned and sprinted after the child.

"Get back here with that!" she screamed. "Someone stop that thief!"

If she had been in Rin, everyone around her would have stopped what they were doing to help her catch the little girl. Even if she had gotten away, at least one witness would have known her name and face, and gladly supplied it. The child would have been found and punished right away, perhaps in short minutes. However, she was in Habaharan now, and the people around her seemed not to care. They yelled in surprise as the two girls forced their way past them, and some shouted at them to watch where they were going. But not one of them stopped to help.

Star chased the girl all the way down the street, until she found herself at a very busy intersection. The child had vanished, and the sigil was gone with her. She could no longer see Forley and Zan, either, and only now realized that she had no idea where she was. She was lost. The temptation to panic was overwhelming.

Except she suddenly felt a surge of raw, angry, familiar energy from somewhere very close by. Not questioning it, merely thankful that she now had a direction, she turned back the way she had come and followed the pulsing magic she felt stirring in the air. It led her into an alleyway she had run right past, where she met a sorry sight.

Behind a pile of crates, she discovered a pair of dirty children huddled in the shadows. One of them was the girl who had robbed her, crumpled and unconscious on the ground, with the sigil still clutched in her hand. The other was a much younger boy, sobbing in terror and shaking the girl in desperation.

"Vivi, get up," he was begging tearfully. "Please, get up! I'm scared! Vivi, _please_ get up!"

Hearing footsteps behind him, the boy turned and looked up at Star, paralyzed with fear to have been found. And no wonder he was so afraid—he must have been six or seven years old, but his Zebak face was unmarked, and Star already knew well that such a thing was against the city's laws. His eyes were so dark with fear, it was hard to see what color they were.

Star stared back at the little boy, unable to be angry or even cross with him. He wasn't the one who had robbed her, after all. He was just a filthy, hungry child, who clearly had no home, and no parents. All he had was the girl he had called Vivi, perhaps the only friend he had in the world. It now seemed likely that the girl had stolen the sigil in the hopes of buying them food. It was the most humanity Star had seen in this place so far. Her heart was suddenly filled with pity.

Then the girl began to stir, and slowly wake. It appeared that the sigil had responded to her somehow, and hadn't liked to be stolen so easily. Perhaps it had wrenched a short, unexpected riddle or prophecy out of her, and knocked her out briefly, giving Star just enough time to find it again.

The pity she felt evaporated, and the anger she had felt before replaced it. As the girl opened her eyes, Star darted forward and snatched the sigil back.

"It serves you right, too," she snapped. "I hope you've learned a thing or two about taking things that don't belong to you."

The two children watched her warily, no doubt waiting for her to call for a guard to come and take them away. But Star hadn't even thought of doing this. Now that she had recovered the precious talisman of her people, the only thing on her mind was finding Zan and Forley again. Pulling the cord back over her head and stuffing the medallion under her clothes, she hurried back into the streets to look for them.

 _Zan is one of the only people around in a guard's uniform,_ she remembered. _Gray. Look for someone wearing gray clothes. You'll find him right away._

And she did. She hadn't gone halfway up the street before she spotted him. Zan was by himself, scanning the crowd and looking remarkably concerned. She raised her arm and waived, and caught his sight at once. The concern on his face vanished, and instead he was aggravated, more like his normal self. He began pushing his way toward her, shaking his head.

"What was that all about?" he demanded, grabbing her arm and hauling her back the way he had come. "You know you wouldn't last ten minutes by yourself here. And I thought we had agreed to stay together. What in heaven and earth could be worth this much trouble?"

"More than you would imagine," she answered. It wasn't his fault that he didn't know what the sigil was; but his ignorance was starting to annoy her. Zan rolled his eyes.

"Your _brother_ is up ahead, waiting with the wagon, hopefully not wandering off as easily as you do," he grumbled. "With luck, we won't be waylaid again. My home isn't far, now, only a few blocks away. We can be there in ten minutes, if you don't get distracted again."

Between crossing paths with his master and a crafty thief child, it was easy to see how Zan could be in a bad mood. And he was only ten minutes away from his house, and his brothers, and the grach he hadn't been able to hide his love for. The delays must have been driving him mad. All the same, Star didn't see why he had to take his frustration out on her. None of those delays had been her fault. At least, not directly.

Forley was, indeed, right where he had been left. He had pulled the wagon up alongside the road to wait for them, and had busied himself by tending to Unos. She was fidgeting, startled by two of her people running off without warning. He was stroking her nose and neck, whispering soothingly to her, trying to calm her; possibly, he was trying to calm himself, as well. Star had never seen such a look of worry on his face.

When he saw her returning with Zan, his face became greatly relieved. She had never seen him make that face, either. He started forward and gripped her shoulders, nearly pulling her into a hug, close enough to whisper in her ear.

"Did you get it back?"

"Yes, I have it."

They sighed together in relief, glad to have that problem behind them. Now that it was over, Star felt crushed with shame. She was the keeper of her people's source of magic now; and so far, she had kept it poorly. She had forgotten it and brought it with her, and that was bad enough. Before she had been in Habaharan for even a day, a child had stolen and skipped away with it. It had very nearly been lost forever, in her hands. She couldn't even imagine what her father would have done, if he had known what had just happened.

She firmly resolved to never take the Earth sigil off again, no matter the cost. She would wear it to sleep, to change clothes, and even to bathe. That was the only way she could truly keep it safe, as her father had for so long.

She would wear it always, and never let it out of her sight.

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 _Afterthoughts…_

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Yes, an homage to _Deltora Quest_. Because why the hell not? After all, Lief and Jasmine are definitely doing king-and-queenly things somewhere just south of this city. 8D

A much shorter update this time. The little brother has proclaimed these 9k chapters to be exhausting, and I am inclined to agree. The last two… They just wouldn't stop… What can I say? Writing from Zeel's perspective is delightful. This one is just under 6K, though, which perhaps makes up for the heftiness of the last few.

Zared Azan is a butt, and a major minor character in books to come. He's like a shadow that just won't go away. Like Bree. I'd say like Neel, except Simon is the that guy. :P

Low and behold, I think there is only one more chapter left on this. Almost certainly it will be closer to 9K than 8, so. Yup. Family reunions!


	17. Chapter 17: Looking Ahead

No. Way. This is the last chapter of _Dragon Queen_! How'd it happen? 8D

It's interesting to think of how this story's purpose has evolved, since I began filling my own notebooks with ideas and finally sat down to write. It started out as a creative outlet for myself, a grand adventure story that I never planned to actually write down, but was fun to imagine. Then it was a project for my brother, who was understandably disappointed with where _Rowan and the Ice Creepers_ left off, and wanted a continuation. Now, at the end of this first part of the tale, I like to think of _Star's Journey_ as a means of uniting the far-flung, disjointed lands of this world.

And the ultimate goal involves Titans, Dragons, and the Shadow Lord in a final showdown to determine the fate of this world. Yes, it involves Rowan, Lief, and Rye being in rooms together, gawking at the long list of oddly specific things they have in common. It also explains the Ols, the Ak-Baba, Theagan, and many other things we have wondered about the Shadow Lord.

All because Star went on an adventure. ;D

If there is one thing the _Deltora Quest_ community on loves to go on and on about, it's how Emily Rodda is somehow able to broach hard topics in a way that children can carry with them, and remember and appreciate into adulthood. Where else can you find slavery, racial prejudice, war, blatant murder, international conspiracies, clan wars, gang violence, bi-racial marriages, and people being eaten alive by horrible monsters, being written for kids? Think about that. Skim over _Rowan, Deltora Quest,_ and _Three Doors_ , and you will find it all and more, over and over again. I like to think that through _Star's Journey_ , I am carrying on that tradition, in my own way. I also like to think that through the longer chapters and higher reading level, I can appeal to youngsters who are reading Rodda's works for the first time, as well as veteran fans who have always wondered what happened next.

Thus, I would like to weirdly thank ISIS for much of the inspiration for what is to come.

Anyway, let's wrap this thing up, shall we?

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 _Chapter 17: Looking Ahead_

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The neighborhood Zan led them into was in much better shape than what they had been traveling through. Rows of townhouses stood neatly packed together, with narrow alleyways separating them. Many of them served double duty, as shops on the ground floor and homes on the second. Looking up toward the flat roofs, they could see laundry hanging to dry, and the green of potted gardens.

For all that they were all silently enslaved to the Dragon Queen, the people of Zan's neighborhood seemed to be living busy, normal, even comfortable lives in their cleverly built homes. The streets were far less crowded, and many of the people had stopped to have simple conversations on the side walk, or in open doorways. Most of them were smiling; those who weren't were just concentrating on their work, or wherever they were headed. Almost all of them spared a moment to wave at Zan, used to seeing him. They stared in curiosity at the fisher folk with him, wondering who they were, but no one bothered to ask him who they were. Their sudden appearance was probably the most interesting thing that would happen to them today.

Zan had quickened his step, anxious to finally reach his house. Star wondered which one was his; they were all built exactly the same. The only differences were pops of color from painted windows, a hedge here or there, and the occasional sign for a shop hanging over doorways.

Finally, Zan halted them at the door of an ordinary-looking house. There was no shop sign, and no paint around the window sills. The only thing that set it apart was a symbol branded over the front door. It was the blackened shape of a grach with its wings spread wide, signifying to all that people of Central Control lived there. For all its simplicity, it seemed to make the house stand out more loudly than all the rest.

Zan bent to pick a stone from the ground, and then tossed it up at the second floor window. It hit the glass with a smack, and then fell to the ground with another smack. Then there was silence for a moment, until the window opened. A plainly dressed young man, many years older than Zan, stuck his head and shoulders out to look down at the street.

For the first time, Zan grinned a true, brilliant smile. His whole self suddenly lit up, like a candle coming to life in the dark.

"Zamiel!" he cried out, with great joy in his voice.

Above them, the man's jaw dropped in astonishment, and his eyes went wide.

"Stay there," he called back, stammering in excitement. "Stay right there, I'm coming down. I'll be right down, just stay right where you are!"

He vanished back into the house, leaving the window open in haste. And so they could hear the man rushing around, and several voices exclaiming in surprise. Another face appeared in the window right away, also overcome with shock and joy.

"Zan!" the newcomer exclaimed, and then twisted to look over his shoulder. "Everyone, it's Zan! Come and see! Zan is back!"

Several people crowded into the window to look. There were men and women, of many heights and shapes, all of their marked faces alight with relief and gladness. All of them were shouting to him in amazement, babbling of worry and grief and happiness.

Zared Azan hadn't cared at all for Zan; but he was clearly very dear to all of these people. He had only spoken of his brothers so far, but perhaps the men and women crowding the small window were more of his family. And as he waved back at them and shouted to promise that he was alright, his violet eyes were shining. He really was home; and it wasn't a bad thing, after all.

In no time at all, his eldest brother all but exploded out the front door and snatched him into a fierce, inescapable embrace.

"Thank the stars you're alright," he said in a shaking voice. "I thought I had lost you. I can't believe I left you behind! Zan, I'm so, so sorry."

"I know you are," Zan answered quietly, happy to just let his brother hold him as close as he could. "And I am alright, really."

Zamiel gripped his shoulders and stood back a bit to pin him with a look of wonder. "But how is it even possible?" he asked. "How on earth did you manage to escape?"

Zan became grave again, and glanced over his shoulder at his companions. Star and Forley had both let their hearts be warmed by this beautiful moment of reunion; but there was still much to explain, and they all knew it. Zan looked back his brother and lowered his voice.

"Into the alley," he said, pulling himself away from his brother. He reached for Unos and led her into the shadow beside the house. "I will explain everything, I promise. But you'll never believe it, even when you see it."

Zamiel was surprised by how secretive Zan had become, and looked for the first time at Star and Forley. They both smiled at him faintly, unsure how else to greet him, and suddenly sorry for being in the way. He stared hard at Star for a long moment, and went on staring at her as he slowly followed his little brother.

 _He recognizes me, like Zan did,_ she realized, as she and Forley trailed behind the brothers. _He knows he has seen my face before, because he has seen papa before. His face may even haunt this man's dreams, if the mission upset him as much as Zan claims. We do look almost exactly alike, and it has puzzled other people just as badly in the past._

Ahead of them, Zan was opening a side door to the house and impatiently trying to haul Unos through it. The grach was resisting him, hissing in displeasure and swaying her head back and forth in concern. Star started forward to help him.

"Let me do it," she insisted, brushing Zan aside. As he rolled his eyes and stepped through the door, Star began stroking her friend's long, scaly neck, hushing her gently.

"It's alright," she crooned. "What is all this? Of course it's safe to go in."

As soon as she had spoken, Zan shouted in alarm and was knocked to the floor. An enormous, bulky grach stood over him, chattering loudly as it nuzzled him all over. All of the beast's spines were raised in great feeling, making it look even bigger. To Star's surprise, Zan began to laugh.

"Dolosus, you old rock," he scolded, pushing the scaly head away so he could sit up. Then he took that head in his hands and began scratching behind the creature's spines. "Have you missed me, boy? I've missed you, too."

Dolosus hissed in pleasure, and settled down a bit. He went on fidgeting, though, happy to see his favorite again after missing him for so long. And Zan was happy to see him, too. All at once, he reminded Star very much of her father. She couldn't help smiling and laughing lightly at the sight of them. Behind her, Zamiel and Forley were also moved by the scene; Alanis and Lead were cautiously peeking out of the wagon to see what was going on, and were probably shocked to see Zan so happy.

It was such a wonderful homecoming, and it would certainly become even more so when Zan went upstairs to meet the rest of his family. Again, Star was sorry to have to interrupt it with a mission of her own.

It was Unos who ruined the moment, by growling at the sight of another, much larger grach in front of her. She began to sway her head again, and tried to back up and out of the door. Dolosus noticed her for the first time, and growled back at her suspiciously. Sensing trouble, Star stepped between the two, shielding Unos as much as she could. On the floor, Zan was trying to push Dolosus away, but failing because his creature was standing and he was practically lying on his back.

"He really doesn't mean anything by it," Zan insisted, as Dolosus kept pushing his way out of the boy's hands. "He's quite harmless, once he knows you."

"So is she," Star answered. "They must be as surprised to meet each other as we were."

Suddenly, it seemed to her that the hissing of the two grach were forming into words that she could understand. Frowning in concern, she focused on this, and found that she knew what they were saying to each other.

 _I am called Iron Hide,_ growled a deep, masculine voice that was certainly Dolosus. _I am lord of this house, and it's people. I will protect Lion Man with my life, if I must. Who are you, with your strange people, that you come like this into my place?_

 _I am called Only One,_ answered a higher, feminine voice hat was certainly Unos. _I have come here with Small Star, because she has asked me to, and promised I would be safe. She carries the light of the lord of Earth. Who are you, to make her a liar?_

Many strange things suddenly made perfect sense in Star's mind. She had felt changed, somehow, ever since the previous afternoon. That had been since she had put the Earth Sigil around her neck, and forgotten that she was wearing it. She had felt wiser somehow, and had found herself unable to lie to anyone. She had known and understood things that she couldn't explain, but simply knew them in her heart. And now, by deep magic, she found that she could understand the secret language of animals.

All of these were mystic powers of the Earth Sigil. She had known of them all her life, and wondered how it must be to have them, but had never honestly considered them. They were things she had thought she would never know for herself. Yet she had been experiencing them the whole time, and had been too busy and impatient to think of it.

Zamiel and Forley didn't know any of this, of course. Zamiel rushed to help his brother, and Forley did his best to help urge Unos inside. It was a struggle, but they all managed it in the end. Soon, they were crowded into a dark storage room, stuck on different sides of two angry grach and a wagon that reeked of fish.

"Zan, what is going on with you?" Zamiel demanded in frustration. "Who are these people? What are they doing here?"

"Close the door," Zan said instead, mostly to Forley. "We can't be seen or heard."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Forley agreed, and pulled the door shut.

"Why is that?" Zamiel asked, turning on the strangers. "You are only fisher folk, if I'm correct."

"Well, it was our first and last day at it," Forley answered carelessly, resting his hands on the back of his head. "It suited us poorly, and so we gave it up right away."

Zamiel made a face, disbelieving. "I don't understand you," he complained. "If only one of you would just tell me what is going on, here. If you have done something to help my brother, you have my deepest thanks. I will repay you in any way I can, I promise. Just please, tell me who you are, at least."

"You won't like it, especially after promising something like that," Zan said in his sarcastic way. "Now that the door is shut and we are alone, I'd say it is safe for the girls to come out of hiding."

Needing no more than that, Alanis and Leah burst from beneath the canvas, gasping for fresh air.

"Finally!" Alanis exclaimed. "I swear, that stench was physically killing me."

Zamiel gasped in alarm and stumbled back, his handsome face a mask of terror.

"Why, they are of Rin," he cried. "I'll put my own eyes out if I am wrong!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but we all are," Star corrected, feeling truly sorry for frightening the man. "We've come here on a mission of our own, and we need your help."

Zan moved across the room to stand beside her, and hesitantly put his hand on her shoulder.

"This is Star," he said to his brother. "The woman we were sent to take is her mother, and she is determined to find her. She rescued me from imprisonment and death, on the condition that I help her into the city." Narrowing his eyes at the others, he added, "The rest of them learned of it by spying on us, and insisted on joining us. I suspect they meant to be of some help, but they have mostly just been a bother."

Alanis glared at him. Forley shrugged and focused his attention on an empty corner. Leah fixed her spectacles and sighed.

"It is true, Alanis and I haven't been exactly useful so far," she agreed. "Never in a million years would our pale faces blend into your city, no matter how many marks we wore. But Star is half Zebak, herself; and my brother takes very much after our half-Traveler father. They play the part much better than we do. All the same, we couldn't just let Star run off her own like this. Not when we knew of her plan, and what she meant to do. We love her with all our hearts, and intend to be here for her in any way we can. Having just lost and found your brother, surely you understand, sir."

Zamiel was still in shock, and considering the people before him slowly. Then he looked beseechingly at his brother.

"Zan, this is madness."

"I know, that's what I said," Zan agreed. "But they wouldn't listen to me, and refused to let us go without them. It was the only chance I had."

"Yes, that too, but it wasn't what I meant," Zamiel sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. "We had a plan, brother. It was a good plan. We all spent days working it out, and it has gone well for us. These people of Rin will change everything, and there is much going on here that they don't know."

"How can we be so much trouble to you?" Star demanded, stepping forward and facing Zamiel with all her boldness. "All we mean to do is rescue my mother. If you were planning to do this anyway, we can only be of help to you. If we have such a common goal, it would be best to work together in any way we can."

Zamiel regarded her sternly, and she could almost hear thoughts clicking into place in his mind. He was thinking quickly, calculating everything, and amending the holes she had suddenly torn in his great plan.

"I see," he said at last, faintly laughing without humor. "You must be very like your mother and father, in more ways than one." His eyes darted toward his brother, waiting impatiently for him to do something; then he shook his head and put his fists on his hips.

"Well, it seems you people surely have done something to help my brother—something rather big, and at great risk to yourselves. Seeing as I have already foolishly promised to repay you, I suppose I do owe you a dangerous favor of my own. Zan, you've led them here in the hopes of sheltering them, have you not?"

Zan shrugged. "It would be very nice of you."

To this, Zamiel began to laugh again, a little more heartily this time. "Very well, then. The two of you, get out of that wretched cart, before you suffocate; and all of you young people, come inside our home. Everyone else is still upstairs, waiting to meet you. It won't do to keep them waiting, now will it?"

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Zan had run into the house and dashed upstairs ahead of them, and was being welcomed home with cheers and cries, and praises in a foreign language. The noise coming from the upper floor was incredible. Knowing the chaos going on up there, Zamiel insisted that his guests remain on the ground floor for a time, until his countrymen and woman had calmed down.

"That's one loud family you have," Forley commented.

"Almost family," Zamiel had corrected, smiling lovingly toward the stairs. "Our brother Zaneth is up there somewhere, and so is the woman I hope to marry one day. Other than that, they are the rest of squad C-57. There are ten of us all together, now that Zan is home. We have all been together for a long time. I suppose we really are like a family to ourselves."

Leah smiled at the thought, observing some framed pictures on the wall. "We know the feeling well," she said. "Our own family is very big, but mostly just made up of smaller families with no blood between them. It's easy to forget that most of our aunts and uncles and cousins aren't even related to us at all. It's a cozy kind of feeling, don't you think?"

Alanis huffed to herself and leaned again the same wall. "Star isn't even my cousin," she added. "She's my niece, really. Her father is my older brother—my much older brother. There are only three years separating me from her, and so it's always been strange to think of myself as her aunt. Still, she is a handful, and I'm always having to track her down and look after her."

Star rolled her eyes. "You don't have to do that, you know. I can take care of myself."

"Yes, I can see that."

Zamiel smiled at their arguing. "You sound like my brothers. Hm… I wonder at how I should explain all this to my comrades, though. So much is already going on; it's been like one enormous puzzle that keeps making itself bigger and bigger. They won't appreciate finding another piece to find a place for."

"Then perhaps we should reveal ourselves to them another time," Leah suggested, focusing hard on a framed map. "We've hidden ourselves well enough from the rest of the city. If we are cautious, I'm sure we can stay hidden from your men, somehow."

"I agree with you, young lady, but that may be easier said than done," Zamiel said thoughtfully. "I haven't a place to hide so many foreigners in this house, especially not when the rest of the squad gathers here every other day. But perhaps my Ofelia can be of some help. She and her father run a bakery a few blocks over, and their attic apartment is usually empty."

Forley grinned and rubbed his hands together. "You don't say! I happen to be a baker, myself. It could solve our problem nicely, don't you think, Leah?"

"Perhaps," she answered evenly. " _If_ the lady agrees to help us, which she may not. It would be a terrible risk, and she may not be willing to get her father involved. I know I certainly wouldn't be."

"Well, I think we can count on her to help," Zamiel interrupted. "Ofelia has already taken several such risks for me recently, and has been a great help. I trust the woman with my life, and more importantly with my brothers. Even if she is unwilling, she will keep your presence a secret, and find another way to help. That is just how she is."

While the rest of them dared to look hopeful about this, Alanis scoffed. "I'll believe that when I've met her. If I don't think she can be trusted, we won't go any place with her."

Leah glanced over her shoulder with her eyebrow raised. "I don't think you get to make that decision for all of us," she pointed out. "We never put you in charge."

Alanis straightened herself to full height, looking very strong and very proud. "My father is in charge of everything at home. I have watched him act as a leader all my life, and know more than a thing or two about it, myself. Not to mention he allowed me to lead the trading party in his place, and I did an excellent job at that. Of course I should be in charge."

Forley chuckled. "You aren't even of age, my dear," he teased. "Lawfully, as the only adult among us, _I_ should be the one in charge. So don't bother trying to boss me around; you'll need your energy, if you mean to make Star listen to you."

Leah smirked in agreement, and then turned back to the map. It was her way of saying that the discussion was over. Alanis gasped indignantly and shot a look at Star, silently demanding support. Star ignored her and walked to stand beside Leah, instead. She, too, was curious about the map on the wall, and wanted to get a better look at it.

It was an old map, slightly faded but well-preserved behind the glass frame. Whoever had drawn it had done so with great care and passion, filling in details as small as rivers, remote villages, bridges, and places of local interest. There were mountains, valleys, deserts, plains, forests, and vast seas, all of them named clearly and neatly.

Star recognized some of those names, too. There was the Silver Sea. And Maris. And the Plains of the western wild. There was also the Zebak lands, divided into three provinces—Habaharan, Nomalia, and Makeloma—with their namesake cities and wide roads connecting like a web.

There were far more names that Star didn't know. To the far north was a jagged, white-colored landmass labeled Eisvelt; to the far south was a large island labeled Vaisous, with a great volcano in its center and dense forests stretching to its shores. In the far east was the land of Dorne, alone in the vast Sea of Serpents. In the very center, as if the rest of the world somehow revolved around it, was an enormous kingdom called Deltora—the largest and most detailed country on the map.

"This is our world," Star whispered, enchanted. "I never realized there was so much of it!"

"Or how small our part of it really is," Leah added, pointing to a tiny dot in the northwestern corner of the map. That dot seemed insignificant, at first glance; but the letters that labeled it as Rin were large, showing that the place was far more important than its size. Still, it was one of the few things to point out on that part of the map.

Interested by their companions' observations, Alanis and Forley wandered over to have a look. They admired the map in awed silence for a moment, until Forley made a face and tapped on the glass. He was pointing at a wide, blackened stretch of land directly between Deltora and the Zebak lands, separating the two countries completely. That land was completely colored in, and unlabeled. It was just an ominous void, sitting in the middle of the map.

"What about this shaded-in place?" he asked. "It has no name, and no landmarks at all. What is it even doing there?"

Zamiel came to look where he was pointing, and made a face of his own. "They call it the Shadow Lands," he said grimly. "A terrible place of death and despair. Some say that it is ruled over by a great sorcerer, ageless in time as well as wickedness. Rumor has it that the fiend had Deltora in a strangle hold for many years, and that they only recently won their freedom. Good for them, I say. Not very far to their north, their Zebak neighbors aren't faring half as well as they are."

The resentment in his voice made them all look up at him, just to make sure he was alright. He was frowning at the map, his violet eyes burning with many emotions. While Zamiel had been overjoyed, then alarmed, then affectionately smiling, it had escaped them all that he was still a Zebak captain. Now that he was frowning and upset, they all remembered it.

After a moment, the many thoughts and feelings battling in his face settled into a single notion. Zamiel raised his hand and pressed a longing finger against Deltora.

"I can't hate them for that," he said quietly. "They are very fortunate to have escaped their imprisonment. Many of our own people have fled to their land for sanctuary in the past and never came back; so I can only hope that Deltora is as good a place as they say."

"Perhaps they were simply lost at sea before they could get there," Alanis suggested dryly. Zamiel rolled his eyes and moved away from them.

"You sound like my master," he commented flatly. "And like many others who have lost hope."

Having overheard her friend's encounter with General Azan and how awful the man was, Alanis looked startled. She had only spoken her mind, no doubt meaning to sound practical and realistic. But she had no desire to sound like the man who owned the Garased family. She now looked sick with herself.

"Well, I have not lost hope," Zamiel was continuing. "Not by a long shot. They try to drill it out of us at a young age, and it often works; but not always. It is like trying to put out candles in the dark: as long as one stubborn candle refuses to go out, there is enough light to find it by. They would like for us not to think of brave, stubborn places like Deltora, alight for all to see. But I do see them, and they give me great hope."

"Hope for what?" Star asked, excited by the man's words.

Zamiel smiled. "For my own people. Hope that one day, if we are just as brave and stubborn, we will be free, too."

He crossed his arms and became more serious. "The mission to kidnap your mother was only the latest in a long line of offenses, young one," he said. "My people haven't cared for it any more than yours have. Someone _actually_ managed to escape once, and has lived a long and happy life in peace and freedom; how could we wish her back here with us, in slavery? The whole thing caused an uproar, you know; we came back to learn that there had been talk of riots."

"It sounds like you aren't the only one who still bothers to hope," Forley commented. "At the very least, some of your countrymen dare to be bold and take a stand."

"I suppose, but a riot here and an upstart there will change nothing," Zamiel answered, shaking his head. "In small numbers, those brave souls are always caught, imprisoned, and killed swiftly. It happens at least twice a year, and that is only here, in Habaharan City. So, you see our problem. We would like very much to fight for our freedom from the Dragon Lords; rebellion boils hotter and hotter in us with every new generation. But it would take an army to do it with any kind of success, and a level of secrecy which has never been achieved before."

The four Rinfolk exchanged wondering looks as they thought this over.

"So, what do you plan to do?" Leah asked.

Zamiel gave her a sly smile. "Nothing much. Just to raise an army in secret, that's all."

Forley was impressed at once. "You must be one convincing captain, then. Where do you think to begin?"

"Oh, it's already begun. My brothers and I are well liked here in Southside; gaining supporters and earning their trust and loyalty has been nothing. Besides, owned people outnumber peasants in this city at least ten to one. With a little organization and a clever plan, they could overrun the palace easily. I don't know if you've noticed this yet, but the people with real power here are deceived by common folk with great ease."

"It makes sense to me," Leah agreed, fixing her glasses again. "People like Zared Azan think highly of themselves, with their studies and uniforms and legions. He must look at ordinary people, and even lower-ranking soldiers, and find them less than himself in every way. If he was told that a humble man knew something he did not, he wouldn't believe it. He would even be outraged and offended."

"Exactly, especially when that humble man is a slave. For some odd reason, our great generals believe that slaves are unintelligent by nature; perhaps because the generals are all cruel by nature, and believe that is just the way of the world. It would never dawn on our leaders that the city's slaves have the capacity to band together for any purpose, but most certainly not to overthrow them. And that puzzles me, because more than half of this city's citizens are owned by someone else. If I were in charge of things, that number would worry me terribly."

Even Alanis looked impressed now, but remained doubtful. "And once you've organized all these slaves into an army, what will you do next? Storm the palace armed only with torches and pitchforks?"

Zamiel made a face. "That seems a poor range of options; I had been thinking more along the lines of swords, arrows, and magicites. You know, useful weapons that can't be struck in half with a single blow. But I suppose it would be simple, in either case. The Titan would have hundreds of guards and generals at her command, armed with iron swords and magic. But what are those hundreds compared to thousands, armed with short tempers and a chance at freedom? And as soon as this army of slaves rises up at the same time, and cries out with one voice, just wait and see how many legions still take sides with the queen."

"You don't really think it will be that easy, do you?" Alanis drawled.

"Of course not. It is only an idea I have been working on, because I know I must. Due to the secret nature of it, progress has been very slow. Many have refused to have anything to do with it, because they are afraid; they have businesses and families to tend to as best they can, which I can't blame them for. I have steered this ship mainly on my own from the very beginning, and will probably continue to do so to the bitter end. Even if the plan is ever completed and we find ourselves ready to attack, many of my own men will be killed; it can't be avoided. And who is to say, even then, that we would be successful? Our queen is still a Titan, and deep magic is still great in her. She may not need her hundreds against our thousands; she may be able to summon some power to wipe us out on her own. No, _easy_ is not the right word for what this plan is; that is a terrible word for it."

Star's face fell. "But you were so excited about it, just a moment ago."

"Yes, before _someone_ decided to open her big, rude mouth," Forley added, pinning Alanis with a look.

"Oh, make no mistake, I'm thrilled about my little plan," Zamiel insisted. "It's the small victories that keep me going—all those distant lights in the dark that I find my way towards, one by one. We are moving in a direction, at least, slowly but surely. And we will get there one day. Not today. Not tomorrow. Probably not even next year, or the year after that. But if my men and I can keep leaving lit candles in our wake, and keep our people's hope alive, then we have done our job. Our _real_ job. It doesn't seem like much; but then, neither do most of us."

Alanis was opening her mouth again, but Star spun around and spoke first.

"Say whatever you want, Alanis, but I think he has a chance," she said crossly. "At least he is willing to try, even when people like you don't see the point."

"What do you mean, people like me?" Alanis demanded. "I never said he shouldn't try. I only meant that he should be practical, as well as hopeful, because wishful thinking rarely gets anything done."

"Well, that's not how it sounded. We're not in Rin anymore, Alanis. These people don't value thing as ours do. You don't sound practical, you sound cold and mean. At least try to understand that."

Leaving her cousin looking startled, she turned back to Zamiel. "Zan had spoken of a great plan, before we left. I had thought at first that it was meant for my mother alone; but I'm starting to see that she is only one part of something much bigger. Is that why you've decided to help her?"

"In a manner," the man answered evenly. "Initially, the mission to take her was just another mess we were forced to make; none of us could have faced ourselves in the mirror, if we hadn't done something to clean it up. However, her arrival here was an unexpected blessing. Having her dragged back here has clearly upset my people; and her tales of a free life may help to inspire them, if she is willing to share them. I like to hope that she will help us."

"Wait just a moment," she interrupted, her heart fluttering with hope of her own. "You speak as if it were already done. Have you seen her?"

Zamiel hesitated. "I have, in fact," he said slowly. "Zane and I helped her escape the palace dungeons, only just last night."

Overcome, Star rushed forward and snatched his hands in her own. "Where is she?" she begged, tears filling her eyes. "You must know where she is! Tell me, please!"

"I'm afraid I can't just now," Zamiel replied, his voice heavy with regret. "It is a deadly secret. People I love dearly have put themselves in great danger by helping and hiding her. To betray them now is a risk I simply cannot take."

Star was aghast. "But the whole reason we've come here was to find her, ourselves! If you would only tell me where my mother is now, we would take her home with us right away. There would be no more need for secrets and hiding."

Zamiel gripped her steadily by the shoulders. "You don't seem to understand the nature of this business, young one," he said gravely, sounding very much like his youngest brother. "You have made into the city and across it without being discovered—a small wonder of its own. But entering the city by any means is easy enough. Leaving it is all but impossible. You would need passage on a navy ship, which will certainly be denied you unless you are of Central Control. If you were thinking to fly away on your beast under cover of night, put the idea out of your head this instant; you would be seen by the Night Watch, and shot out of the sky before you had flown two miles."

"But… But there must be a way," she stammered back, nearly heartbroken with disappointment.

"And I am certain there is, somewhere we haven't thought of yet," he answered. "But if it were so easy, most of our people already would have taken the opportunity to slip through that crack ages ago. I'm afraid that you, and your mother, and your cousins are all stuck here for quite a while. And until we know for certain that we can get you home safely, I will not tell you where she is. I simply can't. Of course I would, but let us face the facts. I hardly know who you are yet, and I have risked far too much to lend all my trust to a stranger."

Star looked back at her cousins, who were just as alarmed as she was. Their task had seemed so easy when they had flown away from home. All they had meant to do was find Zeel, and then fly away. They had expected Zan's brothers to help them without question, to take them to her right away, and then help them slip unnoticed out of the city. They had never considered that there might not be a way to leave, or that help would come so slowly. Alanis cursed, and stomped her foot on the floor.

"That treacherous little worm," she muttered. "He never mentioned this. Now he has us trapped here for heaven even knows how long! He's done this to us on purpose, I'll swear by it!"

"That is doubtful," Leah said gently, placing a restraining hand on her shoulder. "Zan is so used to it, he probably never thought of it. He may even have thought that we were counting on it the whole time. And he did try his best to talk us out of it; he told us several times that we didn't know what we were getting into, but we were too impatient to ask him what he meant. If anyone has trapped us here, we have only ourselves to blame."

Star thought of this, and remembered when she had met Zan in the jailhouse. She had spoken with such confidence of coming to this place, and it had troubled him. He had acted as if such a thing were a ridiculous thing to do for the sake of a single person. No wonder he had acted this way. He had known more surely than the rest of them that once they had followed him to his homeland, there really was no going back. And, as Leah had pointed out, he knew it as he knew how to breathe, or speak, or walk; he knew it so well that he hadn't even thought to mention it.

She considered all of this and sighed deeply. Her own clever plans had just changed so much. And they had unwittingly caused these good, noble people a great deal of trouble. Now she and her friends would have to be hidden somewhere, housed and fed by people they didn't know, who might not even be willing to do it. And what did they have to offer in exchange for it? Nothing that she could think of. They were now at the mercy of the Zebak, and would be for a very long time.

Above them, the noise of happy reunion was still going on and on. The people upstairs were still distracted with Zan, and would hopefully remain so for a while. With luck, they had forgotten all about the two fisher folk who had appeared with him, and weren't wondering why Zamiel hadn't joined them yet. He glanced toward the stairs, perhaps guessing at how to explain what had just happened, and who he dared to explain it to.

"The two of you, I think I can introduce safely to my squad," he said, nodding to Star and then to Forley. "You certainly do look the part; I don't know if I would have guessed who you really are, even up close, unless Zan hadn't surprised me so badly. But you girls will have to be hidden until they have left. I hate to have to coop you up like that, after all you've been through so far, but I don't know if there is another choice."

Alanis continued to pout furiously, angry that all her preparations had turned out to be useless in this place. Leah shrugged and sighed.

"That is probably for the best," she said. "Zan was right about that; we have only been in the way since we came here."

"That isn't true," Forley insisted, nudging his sister with his elbow. "You've kept Alanis from beating anyone to death, and that is remarkable. Someone has to be the voice of reason around here, after all."

"True, indeed," Leah answered lightly. "That person certainly isn't you."

The two shared a short laugh over that; Star and Zamiel couldn't help but join them. It felt good to Star to laugh. It was a refreshing change from panic and disappointment. Alanis continued to sulk, and said nothing.

 _Well, here we are,_ Star thought, feeling lighthearted from laughter, in spite of everything. _Perhaps…. Perhaps it was destiny that I carry the Earth sigil here with me. Blinded by fear and despair, papa has no need of it; he wasn't even willing to listen to it. But I am here, doing something, and on an adventure of my own. The sigil will be very useful in the days to come, and I intend to hear every word it has to offer._

 _My adventure really has begun._

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 _Afterthoughts…_

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Lol, like you needed to know _that_. ;D

A quick story aid, because my brother asked me earlier what Forley looks like, exactly. Well, I'll tell you. I want you to picture Allun the baker in your mind—however it is you picture him, just picture him in your mind. Now imagine him wearing a green bandana. THAT is what Forley looks like. XD

Yes, the rest of this saga takes place in the Zebak lands. Yes, there are four other books after this one. Yes, there will be epic double-four-liners in each one.

And yes, the Shadow Lord lives right next door. I mean, come on. It's not obvious? When you line Rowan's map up with Lief's map, it's too close a match to be otherwise. Eisvelt and Vaious are places I have made up for the sake of storytelling and filling in plotholes I dug for myself. They aren't important to this saga; but they are important to the aftermath of it. Dragon-Titan-Lairad-magic stuff, if you catch my drift. One day I will get to writing that point. One day….

In the meantime, _Star's Journey: The Dragon Queen_ is complete. So throw some confetti, pop some nice champagne, and celebrate! CELEBRATE, I SAY! 8D

Roses to all,

Freida Right.


End file.
